"We need help. We can not carry this thing alone." A shadow crossed her comely face. "This morning Jim's arm was badly cut. He said I did it. I don't know. I was handing him the razor. Then I must have fainted. At least, everything faded away. When I came to myself he was washing his arm in the lavatory—and—and he accused me of trying to kill him."
"Why, the young fool!" barked the belligerent Bain. "Hasn't he sense enough to know that if you did cut him, it was an accident?"
"Shut up, won't you?" snorted Donnelly. "Honey, did you say you fainted? That isn't like you."
"I've been having fainting spells," she answered. "The first time was when we were in the mountains and Jim fell down a cliff. We were standing on the edge—then everything went black, and when my sight cleared, he was rolling down the slope." She shuddered at the recollection.
"Then when I lost control of the car and it crashed into the tree. You remember—Jim called you over."
Doctor Donnelly nodded his head ponderously.
"I don't remember you ever having fainting spells before."
"But Jim says I pushed him over the cliff!" she cried hysterically. "He says I tried to run him down in the car! He says I purposely slashed him with the razor!"
Doctor Donnelly turned perplexedly toward the wretched Gordon.
"How about it, son?"