In a minute they heard the two crashing through the spruce on the trail of Mr. Neuburg.
VII
Clement, his head feeling bigger and more painful than any human head had a right to be, heaved himself from the floor, grabbed the pistol Neuburg had dropped, and made swaying for the door.
“You stop here, Seadon,” snapped Gatineau, as he handcuffed the woman (the other man was roping Siwash). “You can’t do anything outside. You can here. Gunning’s dying.”
So while the chase went on up the slope above the lake, Clement watched Henry Gunning die.
The fellow opened his eyes in a minute or two, stared dully at Clement, as though not realizing what had happened, and then suddenly he understood.
“Murder!” he choked. “I won’t have murder. I’m a swine, but I won’t have murder. No!”
“Take it easy,” said Clement. “Don’t tear yourself to pieces. There won’t be any murder now.”
He hoped that was the truth, although Neuburg had got away.