Lord Level gently drew her cool cheek nearer, that it might rest against his fevered one, and remained silent, apparently pondering the question.
"After I told you all that I saw that night, you bade me be silent," she resumed. "Well, I fear the police might draw it from me if they questioned me."
"But you must not allow them to draw it from you."
"Oh, but perhaps I could not help it," she sighed. "You know what the police are—how they question and cross-question people."
"Blanche, I reminded you last night that you were my wife, and you owed me implicit obedience in all great things."
"Yes, and I am trying to obey you; I am indeed, Archibald," she protested, almost torn by conflicting emotions; for, in spite of her doubts and suspicions, and (as she put it to herself) her "wrongs," she loved her husband yet.
"Well, my dear, you must be brave for my sake; ay, and for your own. Listen, Blanche: you will tell the police nothing; and they must not search the house. I don't care to see them myself to forbid it; I don't want to see them. For one thing, I am hardly strong enough to support the excitement it would cause me. But——"
"Will you tell me something, Archibald?" she whispered. "Is the—the—person—that attacked you in the house now?"
Lord Level looked surprised. "In this house? Why, how could it be? Certainly not."
"Was it—was it a woman?" she breathed, her voice low and tremulous.