"What I have to say you would not like anyone to hear. Besides I don't want you to bolt out of the room."
"Get along with it then," growled Bellshaw, "but I assure you beforehand you are wasting your time."
"Oh no, I am not. You'll say so when I've done. You'll consider it rather a clever move on my part and that the time was very well occupied. It's about a woman," blurted out Glen suddenly.
Craig Bellshaw felt as though an electric current had passed through him. The remark was so unexpected, meant so many things, and he was utterly in the dark. He stared at Glen, who still smiled as he said, "I thought you'd be surprised. Do you know what became of the young woman you took away from Mintaro and left in the open to die?"
"You're raving. There never was a young woman at Mintaro," said Bellshaw hoarsely.
"Oh yes, there was. You drove her away in your buggy, emptied her out, and left her insensible while you drove away. You told me about it the night you walked in your sleep; at least all you knew. You acted well, very well indeed. You illustrated in a remarkably clear way how you attempted to throttle her. You also showed me how you were dragging her to some water hole, but thought better of it, and left her to die of hunger. I heard you speak to your horses so knew you must have taken her there in a buggy. It's a bad plan to walk in your sleep when you've a murder on your conscience," said Glen.
Bellshaw glared at him like a caged tiger.
"Murder," he hissed. "Be careful what you say."
Glen took no notice of his remark.
"Do you know what became of the woman?" he asked.