“Troopers! They are coming here,” he said.
“Yes,” said Witham. “I fancy they will relieve you from any further difficulty.”
Dane strode to one of the windows, and glanced at Colonel Barrington as he pulled back the catch. Witham, however, shook his head, and a little flush crept into Dane’s bronzed face.
“Sorry. Of course, you are right,” he said. “It will be better that they should acquit you.”
No one moved for a few more minutes, and then with a trooper behind him Sergeant Stimson came in, and laid his hand on Witham’s shoulder.
“I have a warrant for your apprehension, Farmer Witham,” he said. “You probably know the charge against you.”
“Yes,” said Witham, simply. “I hope to refute it. I will come with you.”
He went out, and Barrington stared at the men about him. “I did not catch the name before. That was the man who shot the police trooper in Alberta?”
“No, sir,” said Dane very quietly. “Nothing would induce me to believe it of him.”
Barrington looked at him in bewilderment. “But he must have done—unless,” he said, and ended with a little gasp. “Good Lord! There was the faint resemblance, and they changed horses—it is horrible.”