"And then—when you told me the other day about your caring for Miss Craven—I felt that I must do something. I'd always puzzled, you know, why I should be brought into it at all. I didn't seem to be the sort of fellow who'd be likely to be mixed up with a man like you. I felt that it must be with some purpose, you know, and now—now—I thought I suddenly saw—
"I don't know—I thought he'd believe me—I thought he'd tell the police and they'd arrest me—and that'd be the end of it."
Here Bunning took a handkerchief and began miserably to gulp and sniff.
"But, good heavens!" Olva cried, "you didn't suppose that they wouldn't discover it all at the police-station in a minute! Two questions and you'd be done! Why, man——!"
"I didn't know. I thought it would be all right. I was all alone that afternoon, out for a walk by myself—and you'd told me how you did it. I'd only got to tell the same story. I couldn't see how any one should know—-I couldn't really . . . I don't suppose"—many gulps—"that I thought much about that—I only wanted to save you."
How bright and wonderful the day! How full of colour the world! And it was all over, all absolutely, finally done.
"Now—look here, stop that sniffing—it's all right. I'm not angry with you. Just tell me exactly what you said to Craven yesterday when you told him."
Bunning thought. "Well, he came into my room quite early after my breakfast. I was reading my Bible, as I used to, you know, every morning, to see whether I could be interested again, as I used to be. I was finding I couldn't when Craven came in. He looked queer. He's been looking queerer every day, and I don't think he's been sleeping. Then he began to ask me questions, not actually about anything, but odd questions like, Where was I born? and Why did I read the Bible? and things like that—just to make me comfortable—and his eyes were so funny, red and small and never still. Then he got to you."
The misery now in Bunning's eyes was more than Olva could bear. It was dumb, uncomprehending misery, the unhappiness of something caught in a trap—and that trap this glittering dancing world!
"Then he got to you! He always asked me the same questions. How long I'd known you?—Why we got on together when we were so different?—silly meaningless things—and he didn't listen to my answers. He was always thinking of the next things to ask and that frightened me so."