"But it wasn't so much that," pursued Honest Steve, "as it was the knife. It was the knife that settled it. It wouldn't have looked so bad, if the knife hadn't been found sticking in him. What made you leave that behind you?"
Instinctively, Richard felt in his pockets; his knife was gone!
"Then they know you've been quarrelling together--"
"Good God!" cried Richard, the full horror of his situation breaking upon him. "The Welshman--"
"Murdered, as you know."
"Murdered!"
"It was an infernal cowardly thing for you to do," said Honest Steve, with simulated indignation.
"Do you believe?--" Richard gasped out.
"Look here! What's the use of asking me if I believe? Who wouldn't believe, I should like to know? Here he is, found murdered in the tent this morning, your knife sticking in him, the gold gone, your letter upon the table, and you cut away--"
"But I'm going back," cried Richard, in despair.