“Well, yes. She told me.”
He seemed to be making, reluctantly, some admission. He sat down beside her, and his movement had the air of ending the discussion. But he did not look at her.
“What do you make of it?” she said.
This time he winced visibly.
“I don’t make anything. If it happened—if it happened like that, Agatha—”
“It did happen.”
“Well, I admit it was uncommonly queer.”
He left it there and reverted to his theme.
“But it’s no wonder—if you sat down to that for six weeks—it’s no wonder you got scared. It’s inconceivable to me how that woman could have let you in for him. She knew what he was.”
“She didn’t know what I was doing till it was done.”