Mrs. Wilder made a gesture of denial.

"I _think_ not, but who can tell? This thing has been like lead on my
mind and will not let me rest. Oh, Mr. Heath, if you knew what I have
already paid, you would be sorry for me."

"I am sorry," he said gently. "More sorry for you than you can tell.
You, too, saw Absalom, and spoke to him?"

"He has nothing to do with what I came here about,"--her tone grew
impatient. "I only wanted to make sure that I was safe with you. It was
no little thing that drove me to come. I am a proud woman, Mr. Heath,
and I do not usually ask favours, yet I ask you now--"

"Not a favour," he said, taking her up quickly. "God knows I have every
reason to help you if I can. Does Hartley suspect you? Does he question
you? Does he try to wring admissions out of you?"

In the darkness Heath's voice rang hard and, metallic, like the voice of
a man whose thoughts return upon something that maddens him.

"He has not done so, but he has asked me questions that made me
frightened. It is a terrible thing to be afraid."

"And Joicey?" said Heath in a quiet voice. "I saw Joicey, but he did not
stop to speak to me. Has he, too, been interrogated?"

"So far as I know, he has not. But this question presses only on me.
What took you there is, I feel sure, easily accounted for, and what took
Mr. Joicey there is not likely to be a matter of the smallest