Her face showed even more clearly than her words what it had meant to her. She halted for a space, unintentionally letting her effect sink home on her audience.
“When it came to meeting him,” she went on, “Mr. Fleetwood insisted on going with me.”
“Naturally,” Stanley Fleetwood broke in. “I wanted to go alone to meet the fellow; but she wouldn't let me go either alone or along with her.”
Cressida nodded.
“If they had met, nothing could have prevented a quarrel; and that man would stick at nothing. I was afraid of what he might do. Anything was better than letting them meet. But I was horribly afraid of meeting him alone, without any protection. I'd had enough experience of him already. So I borrowed a pistol from Mr. Fleetwood and took it with me to Neptune's Seat. I thought it would serve to frighten that man if he showed any signs of going over the score.”
“What sort of pistol was it?” Armadale interjected, looking across at Stanley Fleetwood.
“A Colt .38. I have the number of it somewhere.”
“I'll get you to identify it later on,” Armadale said; and with a gesture he invited Cressida to continue.
“Mr. Fleetwood gave in about going with me to meet the man,” Cressida went on, “but he insisted on taking me down to the shore in our car. I let him do that. I was glad to know that he'd be at hand. But I made him promise not to interfere in any way. He was to stay with the car while I went down alone to Neptune's Seat.”
“I think the inspector would like to know exactly what you did before you left the hotel,” Sir Clinton intervened.