“How can you save him?” The question came mechanically.
“A man has made a confession—a man named Gill, a half-witted fellow who thinks he killed Lew Brady.”
“Brady?” she gasped.
The Frog nodded.
“It isn’t true,” she breathed. “You’re lying! You’re telling me this to frighten me.”
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
“Never, never!” she cried. “I would rather die. You are lying to me.”
“When you want me, send for me,” said the Frog. “Put in your window a white card, and I will save your brother.”
She half lay on the table, her head upon her folded arms.
“It’s not true, it’s not true,” she muttered.