"No, no, no! It's all my fault. I sent you away. Oh, I wish I hadn't. I wish I had let you come back when you wanted to. … I was waiting for you. … I left the door unbolted for you. When it opened I thought it was you. And it was Leverett! — it was Leverett!——"
Stormont's face grew very white: "What did he do to you, Eve? Tell me, darling. What did he do to you?"
"Dad's money was under my pillow," she wailed. "Leverett tried to make me tell where it was. I wouldn't, and he hurt me——"
"How?"
"He pricked me with his knife. When I screamed for you he tried to choke me with the pillow. Didn't you hear me scream?"
"Yes. I came on the jump."
"It was too late," she sobbed; "— too late! He saw the money packet under my pillow and he snatched it and ran. Somehow I found your rifle and fired. I fired twice."
Her only bullet had torn his campaign hat from his head. But he did not tell her.
"Let me see your neck," he said, bending closer.
She bared her throat, making a soft, vague complaint like a hurt bird, — lay there whimpering under her breath while he bathed the blood away with lint, sterilised the two cuts from his emergency packet, and bound them.