"Who's that?"
"You."
The Baron flung up his head in quick scorn, and Pressley noted the gesture shrewdly, and nodded in satisfaction. Still he drove in another nail.
"A feller who'll listen will tell."
Friedrich colored angrily.
"You mean me? It does not sound well to hear—that! At first when I awoke on the mountain I was sleepy. I r-realized not what it meant. When I did know, I had no wees' to die at once. I was unarmed myself, and a man in your position would shoot deter-rmined to kill."
Pressley smiled at this tribute to his quickness and resolve.
"But it is not a question of me. What I was going to say was that you know there's a chance of your being arrested, and surely you would not care to feel that it was through you that Bud had br-rought that shame and disgr-race upon his wife."
"His wife?"
The ejaculation sounded to von Rittenheim like the hiss of a snake, and he drew away from Pressley as from a reptile.