Once again, she was become
desperate over the course of events in this night of fearful
happenings.
"No, no! He didn't!"
Burke's rasping voice reiterated the accusation with a certain
complacency in the inevitability of the dilemma.
"One of you killed Griggs. Which one of you did it?" He scowled
at Dick. "Did she kill him?"
Again, the husband's cry came with the fierceness of despair over
the fate of the woman.
"I told you, no!"
The Inspector, always savagely impressive now in voice and look
and gesture, faced the girl with saturnine persistence.
"Well, then," he blustered, "did he kill him?"
The nod of his head was toward Dick. Then, as she remained
silent: "I'm talking to you!" he snapped. "Did he kill him?"
The reply came with a soft distinctness that was like a crash of
destiny.
"Yes."
Dick turned to his wife in reproachful amazement.
"Mary!" he cried, incredulously. This betrayal was something
inconceivable from her, since he believed that now at last he
knew her heart.
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