The House of the Whispering Pines

The lie, or rather the suggestion of a lie, flushed my face. I was conscious of this, but it did not trouble me. I was panting for relief. I could not rest till I knew the nature of the doubt in this man’s mind. If these words, or any words I could use, would serve to surprise his secret, then welcome the lie or suggestion of a lie. It was a brute’s act, I went on, bungling with my sentences in anxiety to see if my conclusions fitted in with his own. Who was the brute? Do you know, Dr. Perry?