His friends contributed no remark.
“Then I came away,” he resumed shortly. “My wife—well, you know the rest, don’t you? I told her the whole thing. She—she said nothing. But she married me, you see.”
There was a moment’s silence. Baynes was the first to break it. “But—the Siwash?” he asked. “The witness?”
Lawson turned upon him with something of contemptuous impatience.
“He told you he had two cartridges.”
Ericssen, smiling grimly, said nothing at all.
V
THE TARN OF SACRIFICE
John Holt, a vague excitement in him, stood at the door of the little inn, listening to the landlord’s directions as to the best way of reaching Scarsdale. He was on a walking tour through the Lake District, exploring the smaller dales that lie away from the beaten track and are accessible only on foot.