and followed you from the Squibbs house. We found the

dead man there last night;" Bridge nodded toward the

quilt enveloped thing upon the ground; "and we sus-

pect that you had an accomplice." Here he frowned

meaningly upon Willie Case. The youth trembled and

stammered.

"I never seen her afore," he cried. "I don' know

nothin' about it. Honest I don't." But the girl did not

quail.

"You get out," she commanded. "You a bad man. Kill,

steal. He know; he tell me. You get out or I call Beppo.

He keel you. He eat you."

"Come, come, now, my dear," urged Bridge, "be calm.

Let us get at the root of this thing. Your young friend

accuses me of being a murderer, does he? And he tells

about murders in Oakdale that I have not even heard

of. It seems to me that he must have some guilty knowl-

edge himself of these affairs. Look at him and look at

me. Notice his ears, his chin, his forehead, or rather the

places where his chin and forehead should be, and then

look once more at me. Which of us might be a murderer

and which a detective? I ask you.

"And as for yourself. I find you here in the depths of

the wood digging a lonely grave for a human corpse.

I ask myself: was this man murdered? but I do not say

that he was murdered. I wait for an explanation from

you, for you do not look a murderer, though I cannot

say as much for your desperate companion."

The girl looked straight into Bridge's eyes for a full

minute before she replied as though endeavoring to

read his inmost soul.

"I do not know this boy," she said. "That is the truth.

<<BackPagesTo menuNext>>