The girl spoke quickly, with a clear, insistent voice that rallied his
mind and forced him to command himself.
"Think, Mr. King, think! Do you remember nothing more? You were
struggling--your strength was going--can't you remember? You must, you
must!"
Lifting his face he looked at her. "Was there a rifle-shot?" he asked
slowly. "It seems to me that something in my brain snapped, and everything
went black. Was there a rifle-shot?"
"Yes," she answered.
"And I did not--I did not--?"
"No. You did not kill James Rutlidge. He would have killed you, but for
the shot that you heard."
"And Rutlidge is--?"
"He is dead," she answered simply.
"But who--?"
Briefly, she told him the story, from the time that she had met Mrs.
Taine in the studio until the convict had left her, a few minutes before.
"And now," she finished, rising quickly, "we must go down to the cabin.
There is food there. You must be nearly starved. I will cook supper for
you, and when you have had a night's sleep, we will start home."
"But first," he said, as he rose to his feet and stood before her, "I must
tell you something. I should have told you before, but I was waiting until
I thought you were ready to hear.
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