CHAPTER XII
AN EXPLANATION
When a human being has run the gamut of horror and suffering in a short space of time his mind ceases to be affected by further sensations. At any other time I should have been appalled that Mr. Trenton could even for a moment believe his daughter guilty. As it was, I merely accepted his words as one more link in the chain of evidence against her.
"My boy," he said humbly, "I know that you have held me responsible for your misfortunes. And you are perfectly right to feel so. I, and I alone, am to blame for all that has happened."
He paused to wipe the moisture that had gathered on his forehead, showing what an effort he was making to control his emotion.
"But if I am to blame in spoiling the boy, I have been punished beyond my due. You do not know, I hope you may never know the anguish, the torture, the awful horror, of learning that the being you have worshipped and adored is worthless clay, a—a common murderer! I was frantic, crazy, and to save my boy I sacrificed my girl. And now, and now—" He broke off with a sob and buried his head in his hands.
"Mr. Trenton, don't. I'll stake my life that Ruth is innocent." I held out my hand, touched as I had thought I no longer possessed the power to be touched by his sorrow. Certainly if I had suffered, he had been in hell.
"My boy, you give me new life," he said, raising his head and taking my hand. "I do not deserve your forgiveness."
"It's all behind us, Mr. Trenton, and can't be undone. The task before us is to free Ruth. We will work together toward that end," I answered.