fixed his clear, penetrating blue eyes, a troubled look in them now, on Varge; then he stepped suddenly across the cell and laid both hands impulsively on Varge's shoulders.
"Varge, for God's sake, open up on this," he pleaded, with a catch in his voice. "What have you done this for?—who are you doing it for? You're as innocent of this crime as I am!"
Varge's two hands clasped over Randall's, still on his shoulders, and tightened in a friendly pressure.
"John," he said steadily, "I have only the same answer for you as before. Don't force it from me again. You are wrong—I am guilty."
Randall pulled away his hands and drew back—and abruptly his manner changed. He shook his finger in Varge's face.
"You lie!" he cried passionately. "You lie; and you know it! And what's more, I know it. If you think I'm going to stand by and see an innocent man go to his death for some one else, you're mistaken. Do you hear, Varge? I thought from the first you were innocent—but I know it, know it now, and I'll prove it upstairs in that courtroom this morning in spite of you. I wasn't idle yesterday, even if—"
"What do you mean?"—quick as the winking of an eye Varge had risen from the cot and his hand had closed on Randall's left shoulder—and Randall, seeming literally to crumple up on his left side, went down to his knee. "What do you mean?" repeated Varge, but more slowly now, and his hand dropped to his side.
Randall rose, white-faced, and felt his shoulder with his right hand.
