“The murder,” she asked, “what of that? I am told that it happened in your room?”
“I am innocent of it in every way,” said Westerham, earnestly. “Indeed, I have not yet discovered the motive of such a dastardly act. I can, however, make a guess, and the guess fills me with apprehension just as much for my safety as for yours.
“Why will you not relent,” he cried, “and make a confidant of me? Believe me that it is within my power to help you, and that I will gladly serve you in any way that you choose to dictate.”
Kathleen gave a little sob. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “don't distress me any further. It is not my secret but my father's—besides, I am not sure that you do not know.”
Westerham thrust up the trap and ordered the cabman to stop.
When he had stepped out he turned back and leant towards Kathleen. “You do me a great wrong,” he said. “But believe me, you cannot possibly fight for ever against my determination to serve you. I am told that the crisis is approaching.”
He had no notion what the words meant, but he desired to watch their effect, and again he saw Lady Kathleen's face blanch.
She stretched out both her hands as though to ward off a blow.
“How near is it?” she asked in a faint voice.
“Heaven knows,” answered Westerham, “and it is quite impossible for me to help you unless you will tell me everything. When you need me, send for me at Walter's Hotel.”
Again Kathleen shuddered, and the cab drove on, leaving Westerham standing alone on the pavement lost in sorrowful thought.
At Walter's he was received most ungraciously. He had not been back there since the night of the murder, and his absence had caused great distrust. Though Inspector Rookley had informed the manager that no suspicion attached to his guest, Mr. Robinson, his words hardly coincided with the presence of the younger detective, who, having taken a room there, never left the premises.
Immediately on Westerham's return he communicated with his chief, and in half an hour Rookley came round from Scotland Yard.
He sent his name up to Westerham and Westerham judged it as well to see the man at once. The inspector came up to the little sitting-room looking grave and anxious. He also seemed a trifle nervous at broaching the subject of Westerham's absence.