Bessie’s face paled.
“Do you mean Mr. Faradeane?”
The woman nodded, with a sob.
“Yes, yes. Oh, miss, if they only knew! Him commit a murder! Why, he wouldn’t kick a dog as bit ’im, leave alone shoot a helpless woman!”
Bessie could have fallen upon the poor creature’s neck.
“Go on, go on!” she said, trembling. “You know something! You will not let him come to harm?”
“No, miss—if I could help it. Look here!” She drew her shawl aside, and revealed the face of a little child sleeping peacefully in her arms. “If it hadn’t have been for him she’d have been underground by this time! He saved her life; yes, he did! He spoke to me as nobody ever spoke before, and I can’t—I can’t—let him come to harm!”
“Go on! go on!” implored Bessie.
The woman drew closer to her.
“I know who did the murder, miss!” she whispered, huskily.