"My God, Varge," he muttered, with a shiver, "you're strong"
Varge sat down on the cot again, smiling, as quiet as though he had never risen from it.
"I'm sorry, John," he said; "but you have no one but yourself to blame. You tried to trick me, didn't you? You tried to startle me into what you would call giving myself away—well, I don't like that sort of thing, and I don't think you will try it again."
"I did not," said Randall. "I meant what I said. You can lay me out again if you like, but I'm going to repeat it. I meant what I said. I know you're innocent—and I can prove it." His voice dropped to a pleading tone once more. "Varge, what's the use? I tell you, I know. You might as well drop the mask with me."
"And again," said Varge, "whatever you may think or believe, you are wrong."
"You stick to that, do you," demanded Randall, with sudden impatience. "Even to me?"
"Even to you," said Varge. "What the proof you imagine you have to the contrary is, I do not know, but—"
"Ah!" interrupted Randall quickly. "Confidences should be mutual. All I ask is yours, and—"
"You have my confidence," said Varge. "I am guilty. Your position is not very strong, John, I am afraid. Why do you make conditions? If you had any such proof there could be no reason for hiding it from me."
Randall, from pacing up and down the cell, stopped in front of Varge.
