"Oh, just because I don't. And what happened next?"
I told her of my night at the Scollays' and my plan for trapping the spies. My self-respect as a criminal catcher was distinctly soothed to hear her hearty approval of this scheme.
"It was awfully ingenious," she said decidedly. "I can't imagine a better plan, and you did it so well that you took us all in completely. I suppose you felt you had to count us among the suspicious characters, but what a pity you hadn't confided in father or me as it happened! We would have done everything we could to help you. I'd have loved to spread dreadful rumours about you!"
"I'm sure you would," I said, "but as things turned out, and in the light of what has happened since, I believe you saved my life by arresting me."
She turned on me and asked breathlessly.
"Did they guess who you really were? Did they try to do anything to you?"
"Merely murder me, as they murdered poor Bolton. The first attempt was made that night on the shore."
I saw her lips parting as I neared the end of telling her that story, and the instant I finished she cried,
"Of course you thought it was father!"
I did my best to shuffle out, but she was a hopeless person to try to deceive.