"Yes, I recollect," she said.
"We had very little chance of speaking but I heard his story in fragments, how he hated the woman who had brought him down so low. He swore to me he did not kill the woman's husband, but he would not tell me who did, although I asked him many times. From what I heard I came to the conclusion she fired the shot."
His eyes were on her; she could not face their searching glance.
She made no remark, and he went on: "It was mainly through me he escaped," he said. "When I was released I searched out his brother and made a suggestion. Mr. Woodridge has no idea I was in prison; he thought I had been abroad for several years. Needless to say, I did not enlighten him; I will trust you not to do so."
"I shall never speak of it."
"Does this alter your opinion of me? Shall I go on?" he asked.
"I love you," she said. "I shall always love you, no matter what happens."
"As you know, Hector Woodridge escaped."
"But he is dead."
"That is uncertain. He may be, or he may have got away and be in hiding. He must be greatly changed, no one would recognize him," he said.