“Why, yes, dear—that is, I heard the shot, and looked up to see you standing there with consternation and guilt on your dear face. Your arm had then dropped to your side, but your whole attitude was unmistakable. I couldn’t shut my eyes to the evident fact that there was no one else who could have done the deed.”
“There must have been, father—for—I didn’t do it.”
“I knew you didn’t! Oh, Maida!” With a bound Allen was at her side and his arm went round her. But she moved away from him, and went on talking—still in a strained, unnatural voice, but steadily and straightforwardly.
“No; I didn’t shoot Mr. Appleby. I’ve been saying so, to shield my father. I thought he did it.”
“Maida! Is it possible?” and Daniel Wheeler looked perplexed. “But, oh, I’m so glad to hear your statement.”
“But who did do it, then?” Miss Lane asked, bluntly.
“Who cares, so long as it wasn’t any of the Wheelers!” exclaimed Jeffrey Allen, unable to contain his gladness. “Oh, Maida——”
But again she waved him away from her.
“I don’t understand, Mr. Stone,” she began; “I don’t know where these disclosures will lead. I hope, not back to my mother——”
“No, Maida,” said her father, “there’s no fear of that.”