'But they all believed—'
'Mother must have known. It would have made little difference. The horror of it was a little greater than the horror of hanging. It probably gave her no comfort.'
'She died of it all.' Jim spoke without volition. 'Yes,' responded Ryder dully. 'She was the kind of woman who would. I was transported, and for all those years I lived in hell.'
'For murder!' said Jim sharply.
Ryder shook his head again. His voice was quite even. 'I did no murder.
There was no murder done.'
'The body—what of the body?'
'There was none. The man for whose murder I was condemned still lives.
Stony is the man!'
'Stony!' Jim peered into the other's face again. 'Stony!' he cried. 'It's not possible. You are lying. It's utterly incredible. Stony! Then this explains?' He did not doubt even while the words of unbelief were on his lips.
'This explains. My coming upon you that night in the Black Forest was not
so extraordinary as it seemed. I was following you both. I had been to
Melbourne on Stony's track, having caught a glimpse of him one night at
Ballarat. I ascertained that he had started for Forest Creek. Meanwhile
Mrs. Macdougal and Miss Woodrow had told me of you. It was reasonable to
assume that you also had started for the field everybody was talking of.
At our first meeting I did not see you: I was too deeply interested in
Mr. Stony.'
'Stony was not the name.'