Then Mary broke out. She burst into sobs, pushed her hand into her dress, and held out the collar to him.
“There it is! There it is!” she said hysterically.
“You've got it?” He stared at her, suspicion slowly coming to him. “But how—? What have you done?”
She looked up at him wild-eyed, the tears making dirty lines on her face, her hand out towards him.
“I took it off. I shut Hamlet into the barn at Mellot Farm. I wanted him to be lost. I didn't want you to have him. I hated him—always being with you, and me never.”
Jeremy moved back, and at the sudden look in his eyes her sobbing ceased, she caught her breath and stared at him with a silly fixed stare as a rabbit quivers before a snake.
Jeremy said in his ordinary voice:
“You shut Hamlet up? You didn't want him to be found?”
She nodded her head several times as though now she must convince him quickly of this—
“Yes, yes, yes. I did... I know I shouldn't, but I couldn't help it—”