“Enough. Judge Lindman disappeared—the supposition is that he was abducted. I placed some men around the courthouse, to safeguard the records, and Trevison broke in and set fire to the place. He also robbed the safe in the bank, and killed Braman—choked him to death. A most revolting murder. I’m sorry I disturbed you—good night.”
The girl closed the door as he left it, and leaned against it, weak and shaking. Corrigan’s voice had a curious note in it. He had told her he was sorry to have disturbed her, but the words had not rung true—there had been too much satisfaction in them. What was she to believe from this night’s events? One thought leaped vividly above the others that rioted in her mind: Trevison had again sinned against the law, and this time his crime was murder! She shrank away from the door and joined Agatha at the foot of the stairs.
“Aunty,” she sobbed; “I want to go away. I want to go back East, away from this lawlessness and confusion!”
“There, there, dear,” soothed Agatha. “I am sure everything will come out all right. But Trevison does look to be the sort of a man who would abduct a judge, doesn’t he? If I were a girl, and felt that he were in love with me, I’d be mighty careful—”
“That he wouldn’t abduct you?” laughed the girl, tremulously, cheered by the change in her relative’s manner.
“No,” said Agatha, slyly. “I’d be mighty careful that he got me!”
“Oh!” said the girl, and buried her face in her aunt’s shoulder.