“I didn’t think about that. I didn’t care about anything anymore. I did worry about the young girl being there. I thought I’d somehow have to lure him away or find an excuse to get rid of her. But when I went into his studio he was alone. And the housekeeper left us alone too. I told him I’d figured out the truth and he looked amused and said, ‘Good for you. Obviously smarter than your mother, then.’

“Then he asked me why I had come. What I wanted from him. Was it money? I said I’d come to kill him. I got out the knife. I told him how he’d ruined my mother’s life and my life and he didn’t care about us at all. As I came toward him he didn’t look afraid—amused rather. He got up, grabbed my wrist, and twisted it until I had to drop the knife.

“‘Now stop being a fool. Go home and forget all about me,’ he said. ‘And we’ll say no more about this absurd incident. If you come back, I’ll have you locked up as insane—do you understand?’ I turned and ran out of the house.”

“Leaving the knife on the table.”

She nodded. “Yes. That’s the problem, isn’t it? My fingerprints will be on that knife. I keep waiting for the police to come and find me.”

“Since they don’t have your fingerprints on file and since the housekeeper has given a description of the assailant being a slim, dark young man I don’t think that will happen,” I said.

I saw a glimmer of hope in those eyes. “You mean I’m safe?”

“I think you’re safe,” I said. “Of course, you’ll be carrying this secret with you for the rest of your life, if you’re smart. It’s not the sort of thing you should share with your fiancé.”

She nodded. “Good Lord, no, I couldn’t share it with Peter.” She reached out a slim white hand and put it over mine. “I’m sorry I was rude to you earlier. I’d been so frightened.”

“I understand.” I smiled at her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Would you like one last piece of advice from me?” I said. She nodded. “Don’t marry him. He seems like a spoiled and unpleasant young man. Marriage is for a terribly long time with someone you don’t love.”

She nodded again. “You may be right. But I can’t stay at home any longer, not now that I know the truth.”

“If I were you,” I said slowly, “I’d have a talk with your adoptive mother. Tell her you know the truth and you want the money that was settled on you now. Then I’d go to New York and start a life of your own.”

“That sounds a little like blackmail.”