"What things?"

"Murders, and--"

"The murder was done by your friend, not by us."

"'Us?' Surely you don't identify yourself with these people?"

"I do. They are my friends--the only friends I have."

"But they are thieves, blackmailers!" said Max, saying not what he knew
but what he guessed.

"What have they stolen from you? What harm have they done to you or
anybody that you know of? All this is because my Granny didn't approve
of my having a stranger in, and had you shut into a dark room to give
you a fright."

"But you forget you said just now you had got me out of a nice mess."

"I--I meant that you were frightened."

"And with good reason. After what I saw and heard in that room, I should
be worse than a criminal myself if I didn't inform the police about the
existence of the place. I believe it's one of the vilest dens in
London."

Carrie was silent. She did not attempt to ask him what it was that he
had heard and seen while in that room. And Max felt his heart sink
within him. He would have had her question, protest, deny. And instead