Her hands hollowed and passed over her eyes.
“I am not a coward,” she said.
“I want to know.”
“I am not a coward. But I am afraid.”
“Are you afraid of a murderer, Mrs. Landsdowne?”
She smiled. Her eyes resumed their distant focus and she smiled. She shook her head. I leaned forward, then:
“Mrs. Landsdowne,” I whispered, “am I that?”
Her lips stirred: the hand above her brow twitched: she was trying to speak.
“No ... and worse....”
“Mrs. Landsdowne, I must know!”