He moved toward a chair. Then he hesitated.
“’Twon’t take you long, will it?” he asked, glancing at his watch. “Those blasted lawyers are expecting me over at Ostable this afternoon. Goodness knows I don’t want to go, but I guess I’ve got to.”
She did not answer. He sat down. She did not sit, but stood facing him. He was smiling, but she was not and, as he met her look his own smile faded. It was a most peculiar look. He began to feel uneasy.
She did not keep him waiting. “Uncle Foster,” she said, “I want you to tell me now just how much you know about the accident to Mr. Covell. All that you know.”
His brows drew together. The demand was not entirely unforeseen, of course. This was the only subject of great importance in her mind and his just now and he had expected her to refer to it. But answering required consideration. How much did she, herself, know? That, he thought, was the all-important question.
He crossed his legs. “Well,” he said, slowly, “that will be kind of hard to tell, won’t it, Esther? When you say ‘know’ I judge you mean know and not guess! I know some things, and I have heard a lot more.”
“But what do you know?”
“We-ll,” still temporizing, “I know—I know— But there! I don’t see any use of going over all this again now. I ought to be on the way to Ostable this minute. I’ll be back late to-night. Anyhow I’ll be on hand all day to-morrow. Why can’t it wait till then, when we have plenty of time?”
He would have risen, but the tone of her next speech caused him to remain seated.
“I don’t wish it to wait,” she said. “I want to hear it now.”