“Them things sure may have influenced you, but–––”
“I think I can tell you.”
Doc Crombie turned at the interruption. It was Eve who spoke. Her eyes were shining, and she looked fearlessly into his face.
“Yes,” she cried, with rising emotion, “I think I can see the rest. It was to shield Elia, and, shielding him, to save me from pain and the disgrace which he knew I was too cowardly to face. He did it as he did that other thing, when he set out to carry a warning to Will, simply to help me, and save me from my troubles. Oh, doctor, haven’t you heard and seen sufficient? Must you stand 400 here demanding all the inmost secrets and motives of two people’s lives? Let us go. Let Jim go. I have yet to bury my dead.”
The woman suddenly turned to Peter and buried her face against his rough flannel shirt, while the long-pent tears at last broke forth, and her body shook with sobs. Peter put his arm about her shoulders and patted her gently with his great rough hand.
“This thing is played right out, Doc,” he said. “You’ve got the facts. Let them be sufficient.” He turned to the boys, and his great kindly face was lit with something like a derisive smile. “Do you want a hanging, lads?” he asked them. “Because, out of all this racket, it seems to me there’s only one needs the rope, an’ that’s Smallbones.”
He needed no other answer than the harsh laugh which greeted his words. He had done it purposely. He meant to clip Smallbones’ wings for him, and, at the same time, put an end to the scene for Eve and his friend.
His success was ample. Doc Crombie walked straight up to Jim Thorpe and held out his hand.
“I’m sorry for things, Jim,” he said, “but you can’t rightly blame us. Not even Smallbones.”
Jim wrung his hand cordially, but silently. His eyes were still on Eve at Peter’s side. The doctor saw his look and understood.