"You hesitate."
"She doesn't know. She helped me to knowledge. She doesn't know she did."
Again I snatched at her hand.
"That's not the same thing. She may know of—that other—but not know she's let you know."
"That's just possible. That's why I——"
"Oh, anything's possible!" I broke out. "Let's be plain. Does she know that I killed——?"
"I don't think so. Indeed I'll say no."
"But you hesitate again. (Come this way—it's quieter.)"
As if a fusillade had been suspended there came a thrilling silence. We were passing St. Peter's Church at the east end of Eaton Square. We were in the Square before she replied.
"Very well. Don't interrupt unless I ask you questions. I'll be as plain as I can. It's extraordinarily difficult...."