V
Kestner, in his work, had always opposed the intrusion of the personal equation. When he had erred, as all men must, it had mostly been through the emotions. Yet here he had made the mistake, as Wilsnach had anticipated, of confounding a case by giving rein to a personal impulse.
There are times, however, when the ultimate truths of instinct and feeling are saner than facts. And Kestner, as he looked at the violet-blue eyes facing him, saw nothing to deplore and little to regret. He only wished he was well out of that dowdy black silk monstrosity which encompassed him with the gloom of a shroud.
"So I am being watched?" he said, striving to make his tone a casual one. "And who or what happens to be watching me?"
"To demonstrate that would only mean to bring danger still closer to you," she replied, puzzled by his sustained air of fortitude.
"It may not be so important as you imagine," he suggested. "The important fact is that you and I are here together, face to face, and able to talk this thing out."
"What thing?" she parried.
"Please don't compel me to preach," said Kestner, wondering at the spirit of humility with which the attainment of his own ends was crowning him.
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