“They weren’t good friends. I don’t know why—I asked her but she wouldn’t tell me. And what was it—a quarrel, a grievance? But that wouldn’t make him want to kill her!”
“I’ve told them that, Anne,” Bassett implored; “there’s no use going over it.”
She made a motion for him to keep silent and moved nearer Rawson.
“It is strange his going away like that—I’ll admit it. But he did strange things; and does every one always do what’s sensible and reasonable? Because he happened to act in a way that we can’t understand is no proof he’s a murderer. He didn’t do it, he couldn’t have done it. And to think that he’s here! Where would he be? Haven’t you searched the whole island? He’s gone, even if he didn’t meet Jimmy Travers. He’s gone somewhere else.”
Rawson leaned suddenly forward and caught her by the wrist:
“What did you see last night in the living-room?”
If he had meant to surprise her he failed of his purpose. She hung back from his grip and said with defiant emphasis:
“I saw nothing!”
“Are you sure it was a book you came down for?”
“It was a book, as I told you.”