Then he flashed the question upon her:
“What did Rafe Gadbeau say when he was dying?”
Ruth staggered, quivering in every nerve. The impact of the sudden, startling question leaping upon her over-wrought mind was nothing to what followed. For, in answer to the question, there came a scream, a terrified, agonised scream, mingled of fright and remorse and––relief. A scream out of the fire. A scream from death. On my knee I dropped and shot him, shot Rogers as he stood.
Again Jeffrey Whiting leaned forward smiling. Again the inner citadel of his hope stood strong about him. Ruth was there to speak the word that would free him! Her love would set him free! It was the time. Ruth knew. He would rather have it this way. He was almost glad that the Bishop had lied. Ruth knew. Ruth would speak.
The words of that terrible scream went searing through Ruth’s brain and down into the very roots of her being. Oh! for the power to shout them out to the ends of the earth!
But she looked levelly at Dardis and in a clear voice answered:
“Nothing.”
Then, at his word, she stumbled down out of the stand.
Again Jeffrey Whiting fell back into his seat.