"You refuse?"
"Absolutely."
"Then I have nothing to tell you."
"Then you brought me in here on a lie. I should never have come if—-"
"Yes?"
"If I hadn't thought you had something to tell me."
"What should I have to tell you?"
"I don't know . . . nothing."
There was a pause, and then with a sudden surprising force, Craven almost appealed—
"Dune, you can help me. You can make a great difference. I am ill; it's quite true. I'm not myself a bit and I'm tortured by imaginations—awful things. I suppose Carfax has got on my nerves and I've had absurd fancies. You can help me if you'll just answer me one question—only one. I don't want to know anything else, I'll never ask you anything else—only this. Where were you on the afternoon that Carfax was murdered?"