It was as though she had not spoken. Penelope’s eyes were fixed upon her, but they seemed to look right through her. She got to her feet with an air of calm detachment that hid an intensity of feeling, and gripped Mrs. Gertstein’s arm.

“Is he dangerously hurt?” she asked. “Tell me the truth.” Her fingers bit deep in the soft flesh of the other woman. “You have done enough harm as it is. Now tell me.”

Their eyes fought for domination for an instant. The grip on Mrs. Gertstein’s arm tightened, and she saw that in Penelope’s face that she had not seen before.

“It was an accident,” she said slowly as though the words were dragged from her. “I never meant it. I had a knife in my hands and he⁠—”

“Is he dangerously hurt?” persisted Penelope.