My face silenced her.
I spoke in the fewest words I could find.
"I have been to the cutler's shop at Waterbank," I said.

"There is the unfinished inscription on the knife, complete in your handwriting.

I could hang you by a word.

God forgive me--I can't say the word." Her bright complexion turned to a dreadful clay-color.

Her eyes were fixed and staring, like the eyes of a person in a fit.