[CHAPTER XII]
Lyon had carefully refrained from giving Lawrence any hint as to the new turn his suspicions had taken. He had an instinctive feeling that the masterful prisoner in the county jail would have scant patience with any unauthorized efforts on his part to penetrate the mystery. That, to Lyon's mind, might be a very good reason for not talking about his activities, but he was the last man to abandon his own line merely out of deference to another man's prejudices. He was always more interested in getting results, however, than in getting credit, so he was content to work instead of talk.
But on his next visit to Lawrence, he took occasion to put a hypothetical question which went directly to the heart of his perplexity and for which he very much wanted an answer--though he didn't expect to get it.
"Lawrence," he said, in a casual tone, having first carefully taken a position where he had the advantage of the light in watching the other man's face, "have you considered the possibility that Miss Wolcott may, after all, have had nothing to do with that affair?"
Lawrence turned upon him with swift amazement and anger.
"What do you mean?" he demanded in a threatening undertone, with an apprehensive glance at the door.
"The guard couldn't hear me to save his ears. I mean simply,--are you sure of your premises? You see, I am taking for granted that your policy of silence is to protect--oh, I won't mention her name again. But what if the facts should be that she doesn't need any protection? What if it really proves that you are making a sacrifice which is not merely heroic but is unnecessary? Suppose the woman who ran across the street was someone else?"
"Have you dared to tell--to hint--"
"What I might dare to do is one thing, what I have actually done is another. As a matter of fact, I have neither told nor hinted,--nor have I knocked you down for thinking such a thing possible."
Lawrence dropped into his chair and let his head sink on his hand.