“I answered Mr. Sidney’s, and I sent one to the servants in Grosvenor Street,” Madame Querterot broke off her tune to reply.
“I don’t know who Aberhyn Jones is,” she added, “nor where he lives, so I can’t answer him; and I haven’t quite decided what to say to the detective.”
She went on packing, and resumed her humming. Bert did not speak for a minute, then he said very quietly:
“I took the girl to Regent’s Park, to the very edge of the water; and then a policeman came up and prevented me doing as we arranged.”
“What!” Madame Querterot almost screamed.
She stood erect and gazed at Bert in incredulous dismay.
“I hit her and ran,” he went on. “I don’t suppose I did her much damage or I should have seen it mentioned in the papers, and there has been nothing about it.”
“If she is alive I don’t understand how it is they still believe Mrs. Vanderstein is here. But never mind that now. The point is, the girl, if she lives, will put them on my track. I shall not be able to escape now so easily. Perhaps the best thing to do is to go back and face it out. Better get my story in before they have time to puzzle out the truth.”
She spoke musingly, more to herself than to her companion.
“Your story!” Bert repeated, speaking only a little above a whisper. His voice would not come out somehow; he felt as if he were choking. “You mean you will say that I did it! Why not say that you have been hiding from me in fear of your own life, all these days? That would round it off well!”