“I don’t understand you.”
“Then I will speak more frankly, Miss Wynd, in the hope that you will be equally frank with me,” I said, my eyes fixed upon her. “You were last night, or, rather, at an early hour this morning, with a person whom you have met on a previous occasion.”
“I admit that. It is, indeed, useless to deny it,” she answered.
“And yet, on the last occasion that you met, you nearly lost your life! Was it wise?”
“Nearly lost my life?” she echoed. “I do not follow you.”
“The woman in black who called at Gloucester Square on that evening not so many days ago. You surely remember her? Was it not after her departure that her unaccountable, evil influence remained?”
“Certainly. But what of her?”
“You were with her last night.”
“With her?” she gasped, surprised. “I certainly was not.”
“Do you deny having seen her?” I demanded.