"Ah, that's a pity! Bawdsey could tell you some nice tales." He fixed a keen glance on her. "About some yellow holly, for instance."
Lola winced, for the shot had gone home. But she still held to her declaration of ignorance. "I know nothings--absolutely."
"But apparently this man knows a great deal. He is in love with you, and must have told you much. Did he inform you of a certain murder which took place at San Remo?"
"Ah, bah! Why should he? I knew of all already."
"You! How did you know?"
"My father and my mothers, they lived in San Remo when--oh, they did tell me all of that Englishman."
"Did they know who murdered him?" asked George, marveling at this unexpected discovery.
"No. No one know anythings."
"Was there no suspicion?"
"Not one suspicions. I know nothings," she repeated doggedly.