I stood in silence regarding her, utterly mystified. Was it guilt that was written so vividly upon her face, or was it the fierce desperation of an innocent woman hounded to her death?
Ah! had I known the startling truth at that moment, how differently would I have acted!
Chapter Twelve.
Love and Lolita.
To press her further was out of the question. I had sufficiently explained that I held the knowledge to myself, and that I did not intend to divulge to the police what I had discovered.
That she had been fully aware of the unknown’s death was quite plain and equally so that she feared lest the inquiries might lead the police in her direction.
The silent manner in which she had changed her mud-bedraggled dress was in itself sufficient to show that she was well aware that I suspected her of being implicated in the young man’s death, and her mute thankfulness was also very marked.
In silence we walked on through the forest gloom where the damp smell of the moss and dead leaves was welcome after the dry August heat outside, until presently, after debating within myself whether it were wise to place her upon her guard, I suddenly put my hand upon my love’s arm, saying—