"Wasn't it—a wild beast? It made a noise like one, or—was it my imagination?"
"The dreadful noise! I've heard it ever since. I hear it all the time—I hear it now. Can't you—hear it now?"
She looked about her with frightened eyes.
"That certainly is your imagination; there's not a sound. But was there no one else there in the room besides you, and Edwin Lawrence, and—I?"
"There was the other man."
"Was that other man his brother?"
"I don't just know; I can't quite think. But, if I saw him again, I should know him, I feel sure I should, as I've known you."
"Did they quarrel, the two men?"
She shook her head.
"It will all come back to me, perhaps, piece by piece; but not yet, not yet But you were there, and you saw I did not kill him?"
"What I saw I cannot tell; as with you it was all a blur. But that you did not kill him I am as sure as that the sky is above."
"I am so glad. You have made me so happy."
"It needs but a little thing to make your happiness."
"What is your name?"
"You have heard it more than once. My name is Ferguson—John Ferguson."
