"Yes," she replied.
"I need your help."
"I know. I'll give it."
"You will?" was his reply. The tone of his voice was indefinable. There was mingled wonder, and scorn, and suspicion.
"I will."
He laughed sardonically. "Now you'll help," he said. "Why didn't you help me when they accused me of trying to murder you?"
She shook her head sadly, and reached for his hand. He tried to withdraw but she held it fast.
"James," she said with a note of pleading in her voice. "Please believe me. I wanted to. But you see, my testimony was worthless. All I remember was a blow on the back of the head. Blinding lights, roaring sound and waves of pain that came and went in crescendo and diminuendo until I came to in Doctor Pollard's surgery."
"They blamed me."
"I know," she said.