"No; a thousand times no," articulated August Bordine, in a convincing tone.
Ransom Vane groaned and reeled against a post, the letter falling from his nerveless hand to the ground.
For some moments not a word passed between the two. Both were evidently thinking.
The thoughts of Bordine were not pleasant ones. He remembered the tramp who had that morning made himself so disagreeable to Victoria. It must be that he was the author of this horrible crime.
Another figure too came up before the vision of the young engineer, the man on horseback who sat with lifted hat, bowing to Victoria Vane, just as he (Bordine) entered the woods.
One of these men had committed the deed. Which one? Most likely the tramp.
Such were the thoughts that passed through the brain of August in the five minutes that he stood silently regarding vacancy.
"August."
The voice of the sorrowing brother fell sadly on the ear of the engineer.
"Well, Ransom."