"Collie, they've got the proof. I'll take my medicine.... Your dad is good. He'll be easy on me!'
"You lie!" she whispered. "And I will tell why you lie!"
Moore did not show the shame and guilt that should have been natural with his confession. But he showed an agony of distress. His hand sought Wade and dragged at him.
It did not need this mute appeal to tell Wade that in another moment Columbine would have flung the shameful truth into the face of Jack Belllounds. She was rising to that. She was terrible and beautiful to see.
"Collie," said Wade, with that voice he knew had strange power over her, with a clasp of her outflung hand, "no more! This is a man's game. It's not for a woman to judge. Not here! It's Wils's game--an' it's mine. I'm his friend. Whatever his trouble or guilt, I take it on my shoulders. An' it will be as if it were not!"
Moaning and wringing her hands, Columbine staggered with the burden of the struggle in her.
"I'm quite--quite mad--or dreaming. Oh, Ben!" she cried.
"Brace up, Collie. It's sure hard. Wils, your friend and playmate so many years--it's hard to believe! We all understand, Collie. Now you go in, an' don't listen to any more or look any more."
He led her down the porch to the door of her room, and as he pushed it open he whispered, "I will save you, Collie, an' Wils, an' the old man you call dad!"
Then he returned to the silent group in the yard.