But fear of the law is
strong within them.
"Don't arrest me," she said. "I'll tell you."
"Good. In the first place, then, where were you going when I came
here?"
"To meet my boy at Vauxhall Station."
"What is his name?"
"I'm not going to tell you. What's he done?"
"He has done murder. What is his name?"
"My God!" whispered the girl, and her face blanched swiftly.
"Murder! I--I can't tell you his name--"
"You mean you won't?"
She did not answer.
"He is a very dark man," continued Harley "with black eyes. He is
a Hindu."
The girl stared straight before her, dumbly.
"Answer me!" shouted Harley.
"Yes--yes! He is a foreigner."
"A Hindu?"
"I think so."
"He was here five minutes ago?"
"Yes."
"Where was he going to take you?"
"I don't know. He said he could put me in a good job out of
London. We had only ten minutes to catch the train. He's gone to
get the tickets."
"Where did you meet him?"
"In the Green Park."
"When?"
"About a month ago."
"Was he going to marry you?"
"Yes."
"What did you do to the serviettes on the night Sir Charles
died?"
"Oh, my God! I didn't do anything to hurt him--I didn't do
anything to hurt him!"
"Answer me."
"Sidney--"
"Oh, he called himself Sidney, did he? It isn't his name. But go
on."
"He asked me to get one of the serviettes, with the ring, and to
lend it to him."
"You did this?"
"Yes.
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