“Do you know them well?” asked Bella.

He smiled, reproaching her, and she coloured, reproaching herself⁠—both, with the knowledge that she had meant to entrap him into an answer not true⁠—when he said “I know of them.”

“Truly, he told us he had seen you but once.”

“Truly, I supposed he did.”

Bella was nervous now, and would have been glad to recall her question.

“You thought it strange that, feeling much interested in you, I should start at what sounded like a proposal to bring you into contact with the murdered man who lies in his grave. I might have known⁠—of course in a moment should have known⁠—that it could not have that meaning. But my interest remains.”