"I saw that, at the inquest," she half whispered in her suspense and the anguish of her great sympathy.
"I wasn't sure what had happened. If I had told all, I couldn't have saved him unless he were able to produce an alibi; for, with circumstantial evidence strong against him, nothing I had to say could prove his innocence. And, as I said, I thought, in a passion of rage against her he might have—caused her death. Afterward, I could guess by what I suffered myself, he would have repented bitterly, when it was too late. Will you read my statement, Terry? You will see that, though I had to refer to the past, to explain what occurred between my wife and me, I didn't bring in your name."
"It wouldn't have mattered to me if you had, dear Ian," she answered. "And besides, if you had told everything it would perhaps only make things better instead of worse for me, after the stories Major Smedley has spread, and is spreading."
"The beast!" Ian muttered. "But, because of him, this confession of mine has not cost me what it would if there were no such person as Smedley to be reckoned with. If people name the woman I have referred to in my statement, putting two and two together, from Smedley s tattle, I think it can do you no harm. Will you read?"
"I would rather hear it all from your lips, letting
