"I do."
Craig lurched forward in his chair. "This is no trial court!" he exclaimed savagely. "He has had his hearing once."
"Be silent!" commanded the Governor. "This man is in my hands, not in yours!" The warning was heavy and vengeful, and it held now all the electric energy of the man that had made him famous through a long career of criminal practice before his Governorship days, and that now, unleashed, dominated the room. Before it Craig whitened with a surge of anger that sent a keen probe of pain through his temple. He sat back, breathing hard, his great fingers working on the arms of his chair.
The Governor was leaning forward now, his hand on the table.
"If I recollect—and I think I do, as certain aspects of the case interested me at the time—there was a witness to the shooting beside the men who were assumed to be your comrades. There was a woman there."
"She did not see my face."
"But she might have seen the face of the shooter. Why did she not see yours?"
"I wore a mask."
"Is not a mask, in itself, a badge of criminal intent?"
"It was not mine. One of the men dropped it when they ran."