“How?”
“You told me you were not the writer of those letters signed with a pseudonym.”
“And that is true. I was not the actual writer, even though I may have caused them to be written.”
“Having thus deceived me, how can you hope that I can be free with you?”
“I regret,” she answered, “that slight deception has been necessary to preserve the secret?”
“The secret of the crime?”
She nodded.
“Well, and what do you wish to tell me this evening?” She was silent for a moment, toying with her rings.
“I want to appeal to your generosity. I want you to assist me.”
“In what manner?”