Oh,
what a fool he had been to have these men down here! What a fool! To see
them wilfully trumping up a charge of murder against himself was--well,
it was enough to make any sane man lose hold on his reason. And
'Toinette! His little 'Toinette! If he should be convicted and sent to
prison, what would become of her? It would break her heart. And he might
never see her again! A sudden moisture pricked at the corners of his
eyes. God!--never to call her _wife_!... How long were those beasts going
to brood in there over the dead? And was there not a chance that the
bullet might be different? After all, wasn't it almost impossible that
the bullet _should_ be the same? His was an unusual little revolver made
by a firm in French Africa, having a different sort of cartridge. Every
Tom, Dick, and Harry didn't have one--couldn't afford it, in the first
place.... There was a chance--yes, certainly there was a _chance_.
... His blood began to hammer in his veins again, and his heart beat
rapidly. Hope went through him like wine, drowning all the fears and
terrors that had stalked before him like demons from another world.
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