"Yes."
With her eyes upon him she moved away with uncertain, backward steps. When she spoke again it was with a quick breath that was like a sob, and in a voice scarcely audible, with breaks between the words: "It is—it was?—you—"
"It was I."
"You!"
"Yes."
"All—the time?"
"All the time."
There was a silence. She had begun to tremble from head to foot. Her face was turned away and her hands were shaking; she clenched them tight. Her voice fell lower, till it was the merest whisper:
"You were the—the convict—the man—in Craig's library?"
He came nearer. "Yes," he said.