“You, Captain Walker, and you, Adjutant Hinton, enter this tent, and tell me what you find.”
The search lasted but a moment, during which time Wells had been assisting Miss Hayward, but not without evincing much agitation. Walker now appeared, holding in his hand a bowl of bloody water, and exhibiting the broken stiletto, covered with blood, which had been found in the overcoat pocket of Wells. A shirt, also, was found, which was stained with blood.
“What can you say to this damning proof of your guilt?” asked the colonel.
“I know nothing of it.”
“Arrest the murderer of Captain Harry Hayward!” commanded the colonel, in a loud voice.
The guards instantly seized him.
“Murderer! He a murderer—and of my brother! No! no! This is some dreadful dream. Oh, tell me my brother is not murdered; it will kill me. Oh, see! Pity a friendless girl who kneels to you and begs you to tell her that you have not deprived her of a dear brother. Speak to me, Edward. I did love you, and you would not harm him.”
Wells could not speak. He had never spoken to Miss Hayward of his love for her; but now, in the delirium of her grief, she had confessed her love for him. Oh, what a moment!
Walker advanced to raise Miss Hayward from her bended position before Wells.
“Paws off, ye darn skunk!” yelled Nettleton, as he hurled Walker to the ground. “I alone am her protector now.”