“Who is the man?”
“The renegade—Lee Holly.”
“Lee Holly!” He turned a piercing glance on Harris, remembering the deep interest he had shown in that man Lee Holly and his partner, “Monte.”
Harris met his gaze without flinching, and nodded his head as if in assent.
And that was the man found dead in her room!
The faces of the people seemed for a moment an indistinct blur before his eyes; then he rallied and turned to her.
“’Tana, you never did it,” he said, reassuringly; “or if you did, it has been justifiable, and I know it. If it was necessary to do it in any self-defense, don’t be afraid to tell it all plainly. No one would blame you. It is only this mystery that makes them want to hear the truth.”
She only looked at him. Was he acting? Did he himself know nothing? The hope that it was so—that she had deceived herself—made her tremble as she had not at danger to herself. She had risen to her feet as he entered, but she swayed as if to fall, and he caught her, not knowing it was hope instead of despair that took the color from her face and left her helpless.
“Courage, ’Tana! Tell us what you can. I left you 301 just as the moon came up. I saw you go to Mrs. Huzzard’s tent. Now, where did you go after that?”
“What?” almost shouted Lyster. “You were with her when the moon rose. Are you sure?”