She was quick in seizing the first opening he gave her.
“That is the conclusion I have come to; that is why I think I ought to go to the police and tell them that I was here. They may be able to make something out of my story—they may be able to see more in it than I can. My simple statement of facts might fit in with some other information in their possession of which I know nothing, and in that way might lead to the detection of the man who killed Frank Lumsden. But how can I go to them and tell them I was here after I begged Mr. Marsland to say nothing about me? He would never forgive me for placing him in such an embarrassing position. It would not be right.”
“And it is not right to keep from the police any information to which they are entitled.”
“That is my difficulty,” she said, with a smile of gratitude to him for stating it so clearly.
“I have no hesitation in advising you to tell the police the whole truth,” said Crewe.
“And Mr. Marsland?”
“He must extricate himself from the position in which his promise to you has placed him. He knows that the promise should never have been made, and doubtless in the end he will be glad to have been released from it.”
“I hope he will understand my motives,” she said.
“Perhaps not. But he will begin to realize, what all young men have to learn, that it is sometimes difficult to understand the motives which actuate young ladies.”
That reply seemed to indicate to her that their conversation had reached the level of polite banter.