"Matter?" he returned hurriedly. "You know what they tried to do to me this morning."
Kitty was shocked. It was true that she did not—could not—care for this man as she loved Phil, but she had thought him her dearest friend, and she respected and admired him. It was not good to find him now like this—shaken and afraid. She could not understand. For the moment her own trouble was put aside by her honest concern for him.
"But, Patches," she said earnestly, "that is all past now; it cannot happen again."
"You do not know," he returned, "or you would not feel so sure. Phil might—" He checked himself as if he feared to finish the sentence.
Kitty thought now that there must be more cause for his manner than she had guessed.
"But you are not a cattle thief," she protested. "You have only to explain who you are; no one would for a moment believe that Lawrence Knight could be guilty of stealing; it's ridiculous on the face of it!"
"You do not understand," he returned desperately. "There is more in this than stealing."
Kitty started. "You don't mean, Patches—you can't mean—Phil—" she gasped.
"Yes, I mean Phil," he whispered. "I—we were quarreling—I was angry. My God! girl, don't you see why I must go? I dare not stay. Listen, Kitty! It will be all right. Once I am out of this country and living under my own name I will be safe. Later you can come to me. You will come, won't you, dear? You know how I want you; this need make no change in our plans. If you love me you—"
She stopped him with a low cry. "And you—it was you who did that?"