“Good-by, Mattie, I shall never see you again, I suppose.  I must run for my life.  I want you to know I was innocent of what they charged me with——­”

“Oh, I know that, Sam,” she sobbed.

“God bless you, Mattie, for saying so.  I don’t care so much for what happens, now.  I am right glad I got here to save you from that——­” he paused, searching for a word which would be descriptive and yet not improper in the presence of a lady, but his vocabulary was not rich and he said at last, “that snide.  But I should have done that to him anyhow; so don’t cry on that account.  Mattie, will you tell me good-by?” he asked with bashful timidity.

She rose and gave him her hand; but her eyes happening to wander to the shapeless form lying in the corner, she hid her face again on his shoulder and said with a fresh burst of tears.  “Oh, Sam, stay with me a little while.  Don’t leave me alone.”

His mind travelled rapidly through the incidents that would result from his staying—­prison, trial, and a darker contingency still, rearing its horrible phantom in the distance.  But she said, “You will stay till father comes, won’t you?” and he answered simply: 

“Yes, Mattie, if you want me to.”

He led her to a seat and sat down beside her, to wait for his doom.

In a few minutes, they heard a loud altercation outside the door.  The voice of Saul Matchin was vehemently protesting, “I tell ye he ain’t here,” and another voice responded,

“He was seen to climb the fence and to enter the house.  We’ve got it surrounded, and there’s no use for you to get yourself into trouble aidin’ and abettin’.”

Sam walked to the door and said to the policeman, with grim humor, “Come in! you’ll find two murderers here, and neither one will show any fight.”

The policemen blew their whistles to assemble the rest, and then came in warily, and two of them seized him at once.

“It’s all very well to be meek and lowly, my friend,” said one of them, “but you’ll not play that on us twice—­least ways,” he added with sarcastic intention, “not twice the same day.  See here, Tony Smart,” addressing a third, who now entered, “lend a hand with these bracelets,” and in a moment Sam was handcuffed and pinioned.

“Where’s the other one you was talking about?” asked the policeman.

Sam pointed with his foot in the direction where Offitt lay.  The policeman lifted the cloth, and dropped it again with a horror which his professional phlegm could not wholly disguise.

“Well, of all the owdacious villains ever I struck ——­ Who do you think it is?” he asked, turning to his associates.

“Who?”

“The witness this afternoon,—­Offitt.  Well, my man,” he said, turning to Sam, “you wanted to make a sure thing of it, I see.  If you couldn’t be hung for one, you would for the other.”

“Sam!” said Saul Matchin who, pale and trembling, had been a silent spectator of the scene so far, “for heaven’s sake, tell us what all this means.”