"Mr. Headland!" she broke out with a gush of tears. "Oh, m'sieur, if you
did but know--could but understand all that my poor heart suffers for
that innocent boy! It is breaking every minute, every hour. Is there
nothing, nothing that can be done to save him? I'd stake my very life on
his innocence!"
Cleek let his hand rest for a moment upon the fragile shoulder, and
looked down into the pallid face.
"I know you would," he said softly, "for even I know and understand what
the love of a good woman may do to a man. But, tell me. That story of the
revolver--_your_ revolver. You can vouch for it? Your uncle _did_ kill
the dog Franco with it? You can remember? Forgive me for asking, or
questioning for a moment the evidence which Mr. Brellier has given, but
I am anxious to save that boy from the hands of the law, and for that
reason no stone must be left unturned, no secret kept silent. Carry your
mind back to that time, and tell me if that is true."
She puckered her brows together as if in perplexity and tapped one slim,
perfectly-manicured finger against her white teeth.
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