Paul was somewhat nettled at this apparent effort to juggle with his question. The situation seemed to him too serious to admit of anything but the most complete frankness.
"I don't ask how you know, or why you don't, Mrs. White," he said as gently as he could; "I simply asked for a statement of fact."
The landlady looked down at the floor, evidently trying to frame an answer. Paul would have dropped the matter right there, disgusted at her reticence if not her indirection, had he not been determined to learn everything possible that might throw light upon the fate of his friends. So he began on another tack.
"Weren't you invited to Strobel's wedding, Mrs. White?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied promptly, not suspecting the ultimate aim of the question; "both of us received invitations."
"Why didn't you go?"
"Lizzie didn't want to go. She said weddings always made her feel solemn, and I didn't want to go without her."
"Wasn't there a deeper reason, Mrs. White, for your daughter's reluctance to go to Ivan Strobel's wedding?"
"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Palovna," said the landlady, glancing at him and averting her eyes.
Paul wanted to tell her that she was trying to dodge him, but he controlled himself and said: