“Ah?” she sighed. “I see! I was not mistaken. You are not my friend, Mr Kennedy.”
“But I am,” I declared. “Give me an opportunity of proving my friendship. You apparently believe that I am implicated in some plot against you, but I swear I am innocent of it all. I myself am a victim of some extraordinary conspiracy—just as you are.”
She looked me straight in the face as though hesitating whether she dared speak the truth. Next instant, however, her natural caution asserted itself, and, with tactful ingenuity, she turned the conversation into a different channel. She seemed uneasy, and eager to escape from my cross-examination; while I, on my part, became determined to obtain from her the truth and to convince her of my good intentions.
I was in a difficulty, because to reveal my connection with The Closed Book might upset all my plans. For aught I knew, she might inform the man Selby, who, gaining knowledge of my presence in England, would suspect that the precious volume had come again into my possession. Therefore I was compelled to retain my secret, and by so doing was, of course, unable to convince her of my intention to be her friend.
Mine was a painful position—just as painful as hers. For some reason quite unaccountable she held me in terror, and now that dusk was darkening to night, was in haste to return to Saxlingham, about three miles distant. It was apparent that my admission of having watched her and her father in Harpur Street had aroused her suspicion of me, a suspicion which no amount of argument or assertion would remove.
She was disinclined to discuss the matter further; and, after some desultory conversation regarding the beauties of Norfolk, she called her dog Rover, preparatory to taking leave of me.
“You must excuse me, Mr Kennedy,” she said, with a smile, the first I had seen on that sad, sweet face. “But it is growing late, and it will be dark before I get back.”
“May I not walk with you half the distance?” I urged.
“No,” she responded. “It would be taking you right out of your way for Sheringham. I have known the roads about here ever since I was a child, and therefore have no fear.”
“Well,” I said, putting forth my hand and lifting my hat to her, “I can only hope, Lady Judith, that when next we meet you will have learned that, instead of being your enemy, I am your friend.”