If one has seen a child’s balloon touched with a lighted cigarette, the collapse of this woman was not more complete.
She seemed to shrivel up. She tried to speak, but all she could do was to lick her lips and open her mouth.
Collins waited.
“You had better tell me,” he said. “If I had wanted to have this known publicly, couldn’t I have had this out in court? Shall I tell you who called?”
“Oh, no, no, sir,” she moaned, raising her hand as though she were threatened with a blow.
“You know perfectly well that Mr. Eric Sanders came, and you let him in?”
“Oh, sir, how do you know?” she said, with a look of blank astonishment.
“The best thing for you is to tell me exactly what did happen. Perhaps I know more than you think.”
She looked at him in a frightened way.
“Oh, sir, he had nothing to do with the murder, sir, I am sure he didn’t.”