A lump came into Dan's throat, and he answered, huskily: “I am sure it is not at all as you have heard; I am sure the facts are quite different from the account you have had—”
“But—”
“No, I can't deny it outright, much as I'd like to.”
“You don't mean—Pardon me, for, of course, I have no right to ask.”
Dan turned away his face. “I don't know any one who has a better right to ask,” he said.
“Well, I shouldn't have asked if I'd thought there was a word of truth in the story. I had hoped I could deny it for you. That was all.”
“I guess I didn't appreciate how you would view it. I have lived in the shadow of it so long—”
The doctor looked aghast at the admission. He had not understood before that Dan was acknowledging the murder. Even yet he could not bring himself to believe it. Dan moved off a step, as if to go.
“Do you mean it is true, Oakley?” he asked, detaining him.
“Substantially, yes. Good-night,” he added, hopelessly.