“You knew it was going to happen?” he questioned.
“No. I knew you were in some sort of danger. I didn’t know what. I was coming to warn you.”
Reluctantly she uttered the brief sentences. It was like the betrayal of her friends.
He seized upon the unwilling admission. “You knew? How did you know?”
She had to answer him. “One of the men on the farm told me. He didn’t say why—merely that you were in danger—that I had better warn you to go.”
“And then you decided to come with me?” said Rotherby.
“I decided that I couldn’t stay any longer,” she told him steadily. “You came up at the right moment, that was all.”
“What?” His eyes searched her again, his expression slowly changing. “You were running away too, were you?”
She wondered that he did not press the point of the mysterious attack upon him further, but was thankful that he refrained. She turned from the subject with relief. “I had to get away,” she said again.
“You’re not going back?” he questioned.