Part 35 (1/2)
”Now do you know it?”
”Charlie's writing!”
Her eyes, after one rapid glance at it, were raised to his.
”You recognise it?”
”I recognise the writing, yes. It is his. Do you wish me to read it?”
”If you have not already done so.”
She took the letter from him. As she read the first sentence she raised her eyes, filled with piteous anguish, to his.
”Oh, Fred!” she exclaimed. ”Oh, what is this? Where did you get it?”
Without waiting for an answer she looked at it again. Her face went as white as the paper, a violent fit of trembling seized her, and she sank to her knees beside the table, burying her head on her arms.
”Oh, Fred! Fred! Why--why did you let me see it?” she moaned.
”Is it not yours?” he asked in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.
”Mine?”
She was on her feet, facing him, with eyes that blazed through the tears which filled them.
”You believed that? You believed I had this when--that I had read it when we were at Taloona? You believed that?”
”It was given to me by one of the troopers, who picked it up where you had been kneeling when you attended to Durham's wound. The man said it was either yours or mine. I knew it was not mine, so I took it to give it to you. I should have given it at once, but I forgot it at the moment. When I read it----”
”Go on,” she said in a hard voice as he paused.
”When I read it I----”
Her eyes disconcerted him; he could not bring himself to say to her face he suspected her.
”When you read it--you believed it was mine,” she said steadily.
”For the moment, yes; I had no alternative. Then--later--I was uncertain.”
”Uncertain of what?”
”Uncertain whether it was yours. At first I intended to hand it over to Brennan, as Durham was too ill to understand. Of course, that would have made it public, and you--well, you would have been suspected, at the least, of complicity in the robbery. I could not believe that of you--could not, even with this in my possession. I came back to Waroona in the morning intending to see you and hear what explanation you had to offer before taking any further steps. But you were not at the bank, and when I got there I was done up.”
The steady look in her eyes never changed.
”Go on,” she repeated.
”I ask you now--what explanation have you to offer?”
”Please finish your story first,” she replied. ”Then I will tell you mine.”