“That does not prove that he died,” remarked Rolfe. “I thought I understood you to say distinctly when we spoke of it the other day that you had actually stood beside the dead body of John Adams, and that you had satisfied yourself that life was extinct.”
“No! no!” cried the old man, uneasily, his face blanched. “If I led you to suppose that, I was wrong. I meant to imply that, from information furnished by others, I was under the belief that he had died.”
Charlie Rolfe was silent. Why had his employer altered his declaration so as to suit the exigencies of the moment?
He raised his eyes to old Sam’s countenance, and saw that it was the face of a man upon whom the shadow of a crime had fallen.
Chapter Twelve.
In which a Woman’s Honour is at Stake.
“John Adams has seen you!” exclaimed Rolfe, slowly. “Therefore the situation is, I understand, one of extreme peril. Is that so?”
“Exactly,” responded the millionaire, in a thin, weak voice. “But by your aid I may yet extricate myself.”