“Yes,” said Miss Trask.
“And this man”—indicating Nash—“this man killed him?”
“That is what Mr. Sigsbee would have us believe,” the girl answered quietly.
“But we have it from his own lips,” broke in Hooker, who, up to the present, had remained dumb. “Nash told me himself that——”
“I know,” Miss Trask nodded. “I, too, have heard it from his own lips. He told me last night—just before the detectives arrived from Los Angeles.”
“And he knew, at the time, that you intended arresting him?” asked the president.
“Yes.”
“Then why——”
“Why am I defending him??” Miss Trask interrupted. “Because there has been a mistake—a horrible mistake. Mr. Nash is as innocent of the crime as any one in the room.”
Nash caught at his breath, staring dumbly, wonderingly, into her face. What motive, he asked himself, had prompted Miss Trask to change so abruptly?