Beneath the tan he was gray. “I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you everything. But I can’t talk—even to you.”
“Can’t talk!” she echoed. “When you are accused of—of this horrible thing, aren’t you going to tell everybody that it is a lie?”
He shook his head. “It isn’t so simple as that. I can’t talk about the case because——”
“I’m not asking you to talk about the case. I’m asking you to tell me that you’re innocent—that it’s all an awful mistake,” she ended with a sob.
“If you’ll only trust me—and wait,” he began desperately. “Some day I’ll tell you everything. But now—I wish I could tell you—I wish I could.”
“You mean that you don’t trust me.”
“No. I trust you fully. But the charge against me lies against others, too. I can’t talk.”
“You can’t even tell me that you didn’t murder two men in their sleep?” Her voice was sharp. All the pain and torture of the long night rang out in it.
He winced. “I’ll have to trust to your mercy to believe the best you can of me.”
“What can I believe when you won’t even deny the charge? What else is there to think but that——” She broke off and began to whimper.