There was surprise in Miss Ryland's voice.
“Yes, I have seen them—watched them—and I know that the police think”...
“Police! What are you talking about—the police?”
Helen looked up with a troubled face.
“The murder!” she began...
Miss Ryland dropped into a chair which, fortunately, stood close behind her, with a face suddenly set in an expression of horror. She began to understand, now, a certain restraint, a certain ominous shadow, which she had perceived, or thought she had perceived, in the atmosphere of this home, and in the manner of its occupants.
“My dear girl,” she began, and the old nervous, jerky manner showed itself again, momentarily,—“remember that... I left Paris by ... the first train, this morning, and have simply been... traveling right up to the present moment.”...
“Then you have not heard? You don't know that a—murder—has been committed?”
“MURDER! Not—not”...
“Not any one connected with Mr. Leroux; no, thank God! but it was done in his flat.”...