She watched his face, her hand going instinctively toward her bosom.
“Strange! That chain probably belonged once to the cloak I wore.”
“Ah!”
“There was a chain missing and a small scar in the cloth, as though it had been torn away. The loss might easily be answered for.”
She steadied herself against the table, feeling every muscle in her rigid, yet ready to tremble when the end had come.
“You had worn that cloak before?”
“I?”
He glanced up at her curiously, struck by her white, set face and the harsh straining of her voice.
“Yes.”
“No. The cloak was borrowed, if the truth concerns you.”