"And I saw the station-agent where you took the train for Baltimore, and he described you, and Ruby, also."
"An accidental resemblance."
"A man met you at that station, to drive the horses back to the town where you hired them."
"That proves nothing."
"Does this?" and Kent Lomax drew from his pocket a handkerchief.
"That is a lady's handkerchief, I believe," was the cool reply.
"It was left by Ruby Raymond in the waiting-room of the railroad station, and it bears her name."
"That proves that she did run off with someone; but who, Lomax, for I am not the guilty one?"
"Does this prove anything?" and the young farmer held up the gold head of a walking-stick.
Schuyler Cluett again started forward, as though to grasp it; but the pistol's muzzle once more confronted him, while Kent Lomax fairly hissed forth the words: