it was the eyes that held her.
They were full of stark terror. The look in them took the girl's
breath. They told her that he had undergone some great shock.

He shivered at sight of her.

"What is it, Clary?" she cried, moving toward him. "Tell me--tell me
all about it."

"I--I'm ill." He quaked it from a burning throat.

"You were all right, yesterday. Why are you ill now?"

He groaned unhappily.

"You're going to tell me everything--everything."

His fascinated, frightened eyes clung to this straight, slim girl whose
look stabbed into him and shook his soul. Why had she come to trouble
him this morning while he was cowering in fear of the men who would
break in to drag him away to prison?

"Nothing to tell," he got out with a gulp.

"Oh, yes, you have. Are you ill because of what happened at Maddock's?"

He tried to pull himself together, to stop the chattering of his teeth.

"N-nonsense, my dear. I'm done up completely. Delighted to see you
and all that, but--Won't you go home?" His appealing eyes passed to
Whitford. "Can't you take her away?"

"No, I won't go home--and he can't take me away." Her resolution was
hard as steel. It seemed to crowd inexorably upon the shivering wretch
in the frogged gown. "What is it you're so afraid to tell me,
Clarendon?"

He quailed at her thrust. "What--what do you mean?"

She knew now, beyond any question or doubt, that he had been present
when "Slim" Jim Collins had been killed. He had seen a man's life
snuffed out, was still trembling for fear he might be called in as a
party to the crime.

"You'd better tell me before it's too late. How did you and Clay
Lindsay come to go to that den?"

"We went out to--to see the town."

"But why to that place? Are you in the habit of going there?"

He shuddered. "Never was there before. I had a card. Some one gave
it to me. So we went in for a few minutes--to see what it was like.
The police raided the place." He dropped his sentences reluctantly, as
though they were being forced from him in pain.

"Well?"

"Everybody tried to escape. The lights went out. I found a back door
and got away. Then I came home."

"What about Clay?"

Bromfield told the truth. "I didn't see him after the lights went out,
except for a moment. He was running at the man with the gun."

"You saw the gun?"

He nodded, moistened his dry lips with the tip of his tongue.

"And the--the shooting? Did you see that