“I am nervous,” admitted Vaneyke. “So would any one be who is innocent of murder, and is accused of killing a man.”
“Why, I don’t understand you.”
“Then I’ll explain,” said the doctor. “But until I do, I don’t want you to open that door, for I have a feeling that the police are there, trying to get in to arrest me!”
Frank was amazed.
He knew that Dr. Vaneyke was a good man.
Murder was the last crime he was capable of committing.
He therefore said quietly:
“Tell me what your trouble is, professor.”
“Night before last, while walking here from the railroad depot, I heard a pistol shot in a lonely part of the road, followed by the cry of murder,” the doctor answered. “Running forward, I saw a man fall to the ground, and another man plunged into the bushes. Beside the fallen man laid a revolver which I picked up. It was the weapon with which the man was shot; I next examined the body. The man was dead. The ball had penetrated his heart. Scarcely had I made this discovery when some constables came running up the road and some men down the road.
“Among the latter was the murderer. I recognized him at a glance. He pointed at me and said: “Arrest him; he killed the man; I saw him do it. See, he yet holds the pistol in his hand with which the crime was committed!” Although I protested my innocence, no one believed me. The men surrounded me; they were going to forcibly arrest me. Seeing how strong the circumstantial evidence was against me, I fled and escaped in safety to your house unseen. Since then, I am sure the authorities have been searching for me.”