A strange light broke on Ray Dering’s mind, and he cried breathlessly:
“Explain!”
So Dallas told him the simple story Daisie had whispered to him, of how she had tried to win him back to her by artless artifices, and how Annette had helped her all she could by taking the letter she had written up to Sea View.
“But I never received it, for I had gone away before, and it was a sad mission for little Annette, for while returning through the grounds at Sea View she was hit by a stray shot that nearly cost her her life—poor girl!” he added.
“A stray shot!” murmured Dering.
“Yes; that was the story that Annette told the doctor and every one else. Some believed her, and others doubted, declaring that out of her noble heart she was shielding some one she would not betray,” said Dallas, gazing straight at him with accusing eyes.
Ray Dering dropped his eyes, and groaned:
“You suspect me?”
“Yes, from your own admissions, your guilty looks, and words you have whispered in restless dreams.”
“So she was true, after all—dear little Annette! True as steel to the fiend that doubted her and even tried to kill her! And she would not betray me! She kept that hideous secret of my crime. Oh, the matchless constancy of woman!” cried Ray Dering; and, carried away by his keen remorse, he confessed what he had done to Dallas, saying: