“You yourself approached the subject,” was my cool response. “I quite agree that we may well leave the matter in the hands of the police.”
“But there is one thing I would implore you, as Lolita’s friend—for she is very fond of you, I know—and as my own friend also—and that is to keep this man Keene’s return a profound secret from every one—more especially from George. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t,” I answered. “At least I don’t understand your reason for endeavouring to conceal the fact.”
“Of course not,” she exclaimed in quick earnestness. “Because you don’t know the truth—you don’t know what exposure means to me—or to Lolita.”
“To you? Then you wish me to assist you in preserving the secret?”
“You have guessed aright, Mr Woodhouse. I confess that I am in fear lest George shall learn that this man Keene has been to Sibberton. He must be kept in ignorance of it at all hazards. Besides yourself, who knows of his return?”
“The innkeeper, Warr.”
“Ah!” she gasped quickly. “Then you must see him and make him promise to say nothing—either to the police or to any person Whatsoever.”
“I will act as you wish,” I responded. “But Lolita has already told me of her own peril.”
“Yes, she no doubt foresaw it, just as I do. If you will assist me in this matter, which is purely confidential between us, you will earn my everlasting gratitude,” she declared.