Part 6 (1/2)
”I do not think it.”
”Have you a servant?”
”Only a woman who comes at nine in the morning for an hour.”
”Does she know Larry?”
”No.”
”Friends, acquaintances?”
”No; I am very quiet. And since I knew your brother, I see no one.
n.o.body comes here but him for a long time now.”
”How long?”
”Five months.”
”Have you been out to-day?”
”No.”
”What have you been doing?”
”Crying.”
It was said with a certain dreadful simplicity, and pressing her hands together, she went on:
”He is in danger, because of me. I am so afraid for him.” Holding up his hand to check that emotion, he said:
”Look at me!”
She fixed those dark eyes on him, and in her bare throat, from which the coat had fallen back, he could see her resolutely swallowing down her agitation.
”If the worst comes to the worst, and this man is traced to you, can you trust yourself not to give my brother away?”
Her eyes shone. She got up and went to the fireplace:
”Look! I have burned all the things he has given me--even his picture.
Now I have nothing from him.”
Keith, too, got up.
”Good! One more question: Do the police know you, because--because of your life?”
She shook her head, looking at him intently, with those mournfully true eyes. And he felt a sort of shame.
”I was obliged to ask. Do you know where he lives?”
”Yes.”
”You must not go there. And he must not come to you, here.”