“You think. I’m sorry to speak rough to a lady, miss but this is a time for knowing—not thinking.”
“What do you mean by that?” demanded Lyster.
The man looked at him squarely.
“Nothing to offend innocent folks,” he answered. “A murder has been done in this lady’s room, with a knife she acknowledges she has had possession of. It’s natural enough to question her first of all.”
The color had crept into her face once more. She knew what the man meant, and knew that the longer they looked on her with suspicion, the more time Overton would have to escape. Then, when they learned they were on a false scent, it would be late—too late to start after him. She wished he had taken the money and the gold. She shuddered as she thought him a murderer—the murderer of that man; but, with what skill she could, she would keep them off his track.
Her thoughts ran fast, and a half smile touched her lips. Even with that dead body at her feet, she was almost happy at the hope of saving him. The others noticed it, and looked at her in wonder. Lyster said:
“You are right. But Miss Rivers could know nothing of this. She has been with us since the moon rose, and that is more than a half-hour.” 287
“No, only fifteen minutes,” said one of the men.
“Well, where were you for the half-hour before the moon rose?” asked the man who seemed examiner. “That is really the time most interesting to this case.”
“Why, good heavens, man!” cried Lyster, but ’Tana interrupted: