"I am but too disposed to yield to temptation, Mrs. Carruth, being fully conscious of how good it is of you to say anything to me at all." He said that kind of thing with an easy assurance and an exquisite grace, which seemed to rob it of its banality. Resuming his seat, he continued to look me straight in the face. He gave me no lead. I had to make one for myself. "It is about the murder." "The murder? Every one seems to be talking of that!" "Are you going to let Mr. Tennant hang?" To look at him one would not have imagined that he understood me in the least. "I am afraid that that is an issue which scarcely rests in my hands. I wish the poor chap well. I don't know that there is anything else that I can do for him. Is there any talk of a petition being got up in case he is convicted?" "You see, I saw you do it." "You saw me do--what?" He asked the question as coolly as you please. "The murder!" It might have been my fancy, but I thought that a sort of greyness passed for a moment over his face, and that the pupils of his eyes came to a point. But certainly he showed no other signs of discomposure. "I suppose, Mrs. Carruth, that you are jesting?" "I have been jesting. I jest no more." He watched me for some seconds with anxious scrutiny. "What am I to understand you to mean?" "You are to understand that I saw you commit the murder with which Mr. Tennant stands charged." He continued to examine my face. Reading as much of it, I suppose, as he desired to read--which, possibly, was more than I intended. Not the slightest shadow of a change took place in his own. Having concluded his examination, he got up from his chair. He went to the fireplace. Leaning his elbow on the mantelboard, he stood looking down into the burning coals. To judge from his demeanour, what he had just now heard possessed only the smallest personal interest for him. "Where were you?" "I was on the bank. You almost threw the lady upon my head." "Really?" He positively smiled. "How do you know it was I?" "I saw you. You stood on the other side of the hedge and stared at me." He glanced up from the fire. "Did you rise up, like a sort of accusing spirit, from the middle of the bushes?" "I did. That kind of thing was enough to make any one rise." "How very odd! Do you know, I took you for a ghost. You gave me a horrid fright. I took to my heels, and ran for my life." "I know you did. I saw you start off running." He laughed softly. He seemed to find the thing amusing in a way which began to strike me as a bit uncanny. His gaze turned to the fire. "Do you know, I thought that you were that kind of woman from the first?" "What do you mean? That I was what kind of woman?" "I mean nothing disagreeable, on my honour. Only I thought that we might be sympathetic." His words or his manner, or both together, cut me as if he had struck me with a lash. So far he seemed to be doing all the scoring. I was silent. I still would bide my time. He went on--