Mrs. Jasher leaped to her feet.
“They could not recognize me. I wore—” Then she stopped, confused at having so plainly betrayed herself.
“You wore a veil. All the same, Mrs. Jasher, you are too well known hereabouts for anyone to fail to recognize you. Besides, your remark just now proves that I am right. You wrote this blackmailing letter, and I demand an explanation.”
“I have none to give,” muttered the woman fiercely, and fighting every inch.
“If you refuse to explain to me you shall to the police,” said Sir Frank, rising and making for the door.
Mrs. Jasher flung herself forward and clung to him.
“For God's sake, don't!”
“Then you will explain? You will tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“Who murdered Sidney Bolton.”
“I do not know. I swear I do not know,” she cried feverishly.
“That is ridiculous,” said Random coldly. “You say in this letter that you can hang me or save me. As you know that I am innocent, you must be aware who is guilty.”