He smiled good-humoredly.
“At any rate,” he said, “you will admit that Dexter has not freely opened his mind to you thus far? He is still keeping something from your knowledge which you are interested in discovering?”
“Yes. I admit that.”
“Very good. What applies to your view of the case applies to mine. I say, he is keeping from you the confession of his guilt. You say, he is keeping from you information which may fasten the guilt on some other person. Let us start from that point. Confession, or information, how are you to get at what he is now withholding from you? What influence can you bring to bear on him when you see him again?”
“Surely I might persuade him?”
“Certainly. And if persuasion fail—what then? Do you think you can entrap him into speaking out? or terrify him into speaking out?”
“If you will look at your notes, Mr. Playmore, you will see that I have already succeeded in terrifying him—though I am only a woman and though I didn’t mean to do it.”
“Very well answered. You mark the trick. What you have done once you think you can do again. Well, as you are determined to try the experiment, it can do you no harm to know a little more of Dexter’s character and temperament than you know now. Suppose we apply for information to somebody who can help us?”
I started, and looked round the room. He made me do it—he spoke as if the person who was to help us was close at our elbows.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “The oracle is silent; and the oracle is here.”