"I should think that had disposed of your scruples."
"I believe, on the contrary, it has set them going," said Donna Teresa,
gazing reflectively at the ground. She exclaimed impetuously the next
moment--"Do you really believe that any man who had shared in such an
awful tragedy could go about the world picking pockets? Think what he
must carry with him! Think what his thoughts must be! Though he was
acquitted, it wasn't from any doubt that he did the deed. And even if
he is able to persuade himself that he was right, he can't believe it
always; there must be dark dreadful hours when her face comes between
him and everything he looks at. At the best, to have been her
executioner! I wish--oh, I do wish I had not felt so certain he was the
man!"
Her voice trembled slightly, and Wilbraham's face grew a little hard.
"I should expect the greater to include the less," he returned shortly;
"and I wouldn't waste my compunctions if I were you."
She glanced at him with a change of expression.
"You believe I was right in my first idea?"
"Undoubtedly."
She stopped.
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I'm off to the police office, the questura, or whatever you call it."
"Do you want me?"
"Good heavens, no!" exclaimed Wilbraham, who had just been
congratulating himself on having got her out of the scrimmage.
"Very well," she returned, looking at him with a smile he did not
understand. "Then you must turn down that street. But don't be too
hard on Cesare."