"You are making a terrible mistake," she cried in relief. "He has not been away from home for over a month."
"He told us that," was the answer, "and we're glad of it, too."
She turned to her husband, her hand rested on his arm. "Jim, tell me you are innocent, and I will believe in you in spite of everything," she implored.
He glanced suspiciously at the men. "You forget, Katherine, these men will be witnesses to every word I speak."
"We will ride off a bit, Glendon, but we've got to watch you," replied Graham. Following the constable, the rest rode out of earshot, leaving husband and wife practically alone.
"Are you mixed up in it, Jim?"
"No;" he replied boldly, trying to look her in the eyes. As his glance wavered, she knew that he was lying, and he knew that she read his guilt. The knowledge roused his resentment.
"Jim, be honest with me," she begged earnestly. "Trust me. No matter what has happened—what you may have done, you are my husband and I will stand by you. Tell me the truth."
"There is nothing to go into hysterics over," he retorted. "You know as much about the affair as I do. You know I have not been away from home for a month. If you want to help me, as you pretend you do, that statement from you will counteract anything Jack may have said. I don't know whether your testimony would even be admitted as evidence."
"I could say that truthfully," she answered; "and, oh, Jim! I am so thankful."