"Say? Say that you saw my brother Richard give me the knife that I
did the deed with."

Jim Otis stood silent, with his pale, handsome face bent doggedly
towards the floor.

"Say so! You saw it!"

Still Jim Otis did not speak, and Madelon pressed close to him, and
thrust her agonized face before his. "Have mercy upon me and speak!"
she groaned.

"Jim, what does she mean?" asked his mother, in a frightened whisper.
"Is she out of her head?"

"No; hush, mother," replied Jim. Then he turned to the girl. "No," he
said, with stern, defiant eyes upon her face, "I did not see your
brother give you the knife."

"You did! I know you did!"

"I _did not!_"

"You did see him! You were looking at us when I went out!"

"I was tightening a string in the fiddle when you went out," said Jim
Otis.

"You must have seen."