Varley continued,--
"Was it far off where the bloody deed was done?"
"Yes; three weeks off, I believe. And Jim Scraggs
said that he found a knife that looked like the one wot
belonged to--to--" the lad hesitated.
"To whom, my boy? Why don't ye go on?"
"To your son Dick."
The widow's hands dropped by her side, and she
would have fallen had not Marston caught her.
"O mother dear, don't take on like that!" he cried,