Ralph Ingle moved his head in assent.
"How?"
"Speak!" exhorted Father White; "though thou be the chief of sinners, speak and trust in the mercy of the Lord who died to save such."
"But I'm—not—the—chief—of—sinners—'Twas the knife did it—the knife in the panther's throat."
"You found it?"
A nod.
"You were on your way from St. Mary's to St. Gabriel's?"
Nod.
"What for?"
"To stay with Brent—I promised Dick."