His face, as he talked, had suddenly become all flushed, and his hands also. Yet his eyes were tortured, terrified pools of misery. He was thinking—but maybe there wasn't any wind that afternoon and maybe they would find that out. Or the tripod hidden under a log. If they found that, wouldn't they think he hit her with that? He was wet and trembling.
But already Mason was beginning to question him again.
"Now, let's see as to this a minute. You say you didn't take her up there with any intention of killing her?"
"No, sir, I didn't"
"Well, then, how was it that you decided to write your name two different ways on those registers up there at Big Bittern and Grass Lake?"
"Because I didn't want any one to know that I was up there with her."
"Oh, I see. Didn't want any scandal in connection with the condition she was in?"
"No, sir. Yes, sir, that is."
"But you didn't mind if her name was scandalized in case she was found afterwards?"
"But I didn't know she was going to be drowned," replied Clyde, slyly and shrewdly, sensing the trap in time.