"Have I killed her?" muttered the man, in audible tones. "Well, if I have, it is not my fault; she forced me to do it, and—"
He started then, and uttered a great cry. A hand touched his face, and a man's visage peered into his.
Instantly the hand of Barkswell sought his hip.
"Don't draw, brother, it's only me."
Barkswell stared in a startled way into the face of the new-comer.
It was indeed Perry Jounce, but he had changed so in the past four and twenty hours as to seem like another man.
His beard was gone, and a new hat and suit of clothes altered his appearance wonderfully.
"What have you been doing to yourself, Perry?"
"Fixing up so't I kin go sparkin' as well as you, brother darling," returned the tramp, forcing a gurgling laugh. "What's up here? Iris dead—you her murderer!"
"Don't be a fool, Perry, she's only fainted."