She had herself sufficiently in hand, and returned his gaze with a faint smiling tranquillity that told him nothing.
"I have no information to give you, Mr. Van Zyl," she replied evenly. "It is quite useless to ask me any questions; I shan't answer them."
He was not disturbed. "Sorry," he said, "but I 'm afraid you must. I hope you 'll remember that I have my duty to do, Miss Harding."
"Must, eh?"
That was Ford, thoughtfully, from the couch. Van Zyl looked in his direction sharply with a brief frown, but let it pass.
"It's no use, Mr. Van Zyl," said Margaret. "I simply am not going to answer any questions, and your duty has nothing to do with me. So if there is nothing else that you wish to say to me, your business is finished."
"No," he said; "it isn't finished yet, Miss Harding. You refuse to say where you were on that afternoon?"
Margaret smiled slowly and he made a quick note in his book.
"I ought to say, perhaps," he went on, looking up when he had finished writing, "that the information I am asking for relates to a—a person, who is wanted by the police on a charge of sedition and incitement to commit a breach of the peace. You were seen on the afternoon in question in the company of that—person, Miss Harding; and I believe—I believe you can help us to lay hands on him."
"Is it Samson?" inquired Ford, raising his head. "I 've always had my suspicions of Samson."