Chapter Eight
“You didn’t answer my question, Miss Chapple,” Mr. Kane said, as they started back around the lake.
“Which question was that?”
“Have any of the villagers come into money within the last few months?”
“Oh . . .” Mattie bit her lip and pondered how to answer this. She glanced at Mr. Kane, seeing the square jaw, the laughter lines creasing the corners of the eyes, the cruel scars that scored his skin.
He had a nice face. The sort of face one could trust. She wished she could confide her secret in him.
Don’t! an urgent voice whispered in her head. He’ll tell Uncle Arthur.
She imagined confessing her secret, imagined watching the smile drain from Mr. Kane’s face, imagined him stepping back, his expression changing from friendliness to contempt.
What she was doing was so far
