"And in order to silence her, she was killed," I suggested.
"Perhaps."
She made no protest of her own innocence, I noticed. She seemed to place herself unreservedly in my hands to judge her as I thought fit.
Yet had not her own admissions been extremely strange ones. Had she not practically avowed her guilt?
"Can you tell me nothing concerning this Belgian girl?" I asked her a few moments later.
"I only knew her but very slightly."
"Pardon me putting to you such a pointed question, Phrida. But were you jealous of her?"
"Jealous!" she ejaculated. "Why, dear me, no. Why should I be jealous? Who suggested that?"
"Mrs. Petre. She declares that your jealousy was the motive of the crime, and that Digby himself can bear witness to it."
"She said that?" cried my love, her eyes flashing in fierce anger. "She's a wicked liar."