"I could make but one defense, and that—"
"And that?"
"And that, Miss Wardour, I would not make."
"Why?"
She was straining every nerve to preserve her composure; words came from her lips like frozen heartbeats.
"Because—Miss Wardour, do not ask me why."
"I do ask; I persist. Why? Why? Why?"
"Because—I see you are as imperious as ever—because I can only save myself by giving the real murderer up to justice."
She was on her feet in an instant, all her enforced calmness gone, unutterable misery in her face and voice.
"You know!" she cried. "You! Oh! my God, what shall I do!"