THIS direct charge so astonished her that for a few moments she did not recognize its full significance. She sat wildly staring at him, completely overwhelmed.
He watched; her terror fascinated him, he could not take his eyes off her.
She tried to speak and failed, seemed on the point of fainting. He let down the window; the cool air revived her, but she was in a deplorably nervous condition.
At last the words came.
"I pulled the trigger?" she said. "What do you mean, how can you possibly know what happened?"
"I said you pulled the trigger. It is true, is it not?"
"No; Hector Woodridge shot my husband," she said in a low voice. She was afraid of him; his knowledge seemed uncanny—or was it merely guesswork?
"That is a lie," he said.
"How dare you say that!" she said, her courage momentarily flashing out.
He smiled.