He crossed the room at a bound. Beneath him, its evil snout pointed upwards, sat the dead man’s familiar spirit.
“Good God! The ferret!”
“It’s been sitting there, watching, watching, watching.”
“The more reason for haste. Pull yourself together. Forward, march!” he cried, pressing his will upon her.
“But you? When they come what will you say to them?”
“I’ll fix up something.” He drew back from the window, lowering his voice. “Men in the garden. A policeman.”
“They’ve found him!” She fell into Ned’s chair, dropping her head in her hands. For an instant he studied her. Then he took his great and tender resolution. His hand fell warm and firm on her shoulder.
“Listen; suppose they suspect some one else?”
“Who?”
“Me.”