"Phrida," I said in a low voice, full of sympathy, "you hear what this man has alleged? Now that the truth is being told, will you, too, not speak? Speak!" I cried in my despair, "speak, dearest, I beg of you!"
"No," she sighed. "You—you would turn from me—you would hate me!"
And at her words Cane burst into a peal of harsh, triumphant laughter.
CHAPTER XXXI.
SHOWS THE TRUTH-TELLER.
"Speak, laidee," urged the Peruvian. "Speak—tell truth. Senos know—he know!"
But my love was still obdurate.
"I prefer to face death," she whispered, "than to reveal the bitter truth to you, dear."
What could I do? The others heard her words, and Cane was full of triumph.