“I swore not to.”
“You gave your oath to a German?”
“No, to an English officer in the Secret Service. I’m always forgetting and starting to tell.”
“Why did you take your oath?”
“I traded secrecy for freedom.”
“You mean you turned state’s evidence?”
“Oh no, I didn’t tell on them. I didn’t know what they were up to when they used me for–– But I’m skidding now. I want to tell you––terribly. But I simply must not. I made an awful mistake that night at Mrs. Prothero’s in pretending to be ill.”
“You only pretended?”
“Yes, to get you away. You see, Lady Clifton-Wyatt got after me, accused me of being a spy, of carrying messages that resulted in the sinking of ships and the killing of men. She said that the police came to our house, and Sir Joseph tried to kill one of them and killed his own wife and then was shot by an officer and that they gave out the story that Sir Joseph and Lady Webling died of ptomaine poisoning. She said Nicky Easton was shot in the Tower. Oh, an awful story she told, and I was afraid she’d tell you, so I spirited you away on the pretext of illness.”