got my money back, but the rest o' the gang came up, and I got away jest
in time to save my life and nothin' else. Ye might remember thar was one
man got away and giv' the alarm, but he was goin' on to the States by
the overland coach that night and couldn't stay to be a witness. I was
that man. I had paid my passage through, and I couldn't lose THAT too
with my other money, so I went."

Mrs. Wade sat stunned. She remembered the missing witness, and how she
had longed to see the man who was last with her husband; she
remembered Spanish Jim's saloon--his well-known haunt; his frequent and
unaccountable absences, the sudden influx of money which he always said
he had won at cards; the diamond ring he had given her as the result of
"a bet;" the forgotten recurrence of other robberies by a secret masked
gang; a hundred other things that had worried her, instinctively,
vaguely. She knew now, too, the meaning of the unrest that had driven
her from Heavy Tree Hill--the strange unformulated fears that had
haunted her even here. Yet with all this she felt, too, her present
weakness--knew that this man had taken her at a disadvantage, that she
ought to indignantly assert herself, deny everything, demand proof, and
brand him a slanderer!

"How did--you--know it was my husband?" she stammered.

"His mask fell off in the fight; you know another mask was found--it
was HIS. I saw him as plainly as I see him there!" he pointed to a
daguerreotype of her husband which stood upon her desk.

Mrs. Wade could only stare vacantly, hopelessly. After a pause the man
continued in a less aggressive manner and more confidential tone, which,
however, only increased her terror. "I ain't sayin' that YOU knowed