“What a joy to see you in this lonely place!” Helena smiled at us, a little wearily, perhaps. “I had your letter, and was delighted. How did you come? By Herrovosca? Oh. Did you stop there? Such a lovely city—or—did this terrible news hurry you through?” Her voice sounded strained, she talked too fast, and her eyes were certainly anxious. Also she twisted her hands when she talked. While I was a police reporter I saw lots of women do that: women accused of crimes, or whose children were lost.
“Do you think there will be trouble?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said, as though relieved to hear the words.
“But surely that will not affect you, across the frontier?” said John, looking at her hard.
“We are very near the frontier.” She smiled, nervously, “and very lonely.”
“You don’t have visitors often?” I asked.
“Not now, especially, with this trouble in Alaria.”
“Does that affect your visitors?” John asked, interested.
“Naturally. The political situation has been strained for so long. There have been two open attempts on Prince Conrad’s life. There is a rumor that Bela was responsible but I cannot believe that. And now Bela killed. The other rumor makes me wonder if Conrad is not responsible, but there were so many who would have liked to see him dead.”
“How was he killed?” I asked.