“But why can’t you?” he asked ruthlessly. “At least you owe me a reason for refusal. I wonder if that reason has anything to do with this foolishness of returning to North Star.”
She was a little startled by the acuteness of his conjecture, and did not immediately reply. He smiled a trifle grimly, and then continued. “If it has, you can dismiss that reason from your mind for good. Dick Bracknell is dead.”
“Dick Bracknell! What—”
Her voice faltered as she met his gaze. “Yes,” he answered. “Dick Bracknell, alias Koona Dick. He was your husband, wasn’t he? You married him down at Alcombe, didn’t you?”
“How do you know?” she asked quiveringly.
“That is a private matter,” he replied. “Just as your marriage was private; and just as the manner of your husband’s death must be kept private for the good of us all.”
“What ... what do you mean, Adrian?” she asked in a trembling voice, her face ghastly with sudden terror.
“I mean that I know who shot Koona Dick,” he answered slowly.
“Oh!” she gasped, her hand over her heart in a wild endeavour to stay its fierce beating. “Oh! what—what—”