"What—you w-won't?"
"No—never, never!"
"Why not? Answer me! Speak, I tell you!"
But Cleone knelt there beside the couch, her head proudly averted, uttering no word.
"Why, you don't think, like so many of the fools, that he killed Jasper Gaunt, do you?" cried Barrymaine feverishly. "You don't think he d-did it, do you—do you? Ah, but he didn't—he didn't, I tell you, and I know—because—"
"Stop!" exclaimed Barnabas.
"Stop—no, why should I? She'll learn soon enough now and I'm m-man enough to tell her myself—I'm no c-coward, I tell you—"
Then Cleone raised her head and looked up at her half-brother, and in her eyes were a slow-dawning fear and horror.
"Oh, Ronald!" she whispered, "what do you mean?"
"Mean?" cried Barrymaine, "I mean that I did it—I did it. Yes, I k-killed Jasper Gaunt, but it was no m-murder, Clo—a—a fight, an accident—yes, I s-swear to God I never meant to do it."