When Kilgariff reached the village, he inquired for Doctor Brent’s quarters, and presently dismounted in front of the house temporarily occupied by that officer.
As he entered the office, Arthur Brent raised his eyes, and instantly a look of amazed recognition came over his face. Rising and grasping his visitor’s hand—though that hand had not been extended—he exclaimed:—
“Kilgariff! You here?”
“Thank you,” answered the sergeant-major. “You have taken my hand—which I did not venture to offer. That means much.”
“It means that I am Arthur Brent, and glad to greet Owen Kilgariff once more in the flesh.”
“It means more than that,” answered Kilgariff. “It means that you generously believe in my innocence—jail-bird that I am.”
“I have never believed you guilty,” answered the other.
“But why not? The evidence was all against me.”
“No, it was not. The testimony was. But between evidence and testimony there is a world of difference.”
“Just how do you mean?”