"Miriam! Miriam, the potatoes are burning!"
Miriam left the room hastily, leaving her husband still nursing the
small garment in the crook of his arm.
"A father of a child!" he mused. "It's good to be a father--a good
father." Suddenly he seated himself at the table and buried his face in
his arms. For some time he remained thus; but when he raised his head
again there were tears in his eyes.
"A little child for me--and I shot Hargraves," he moaned.
Just then Miriam came back into the room. At a glance she realised what
was going on in his mind; and going over to him, placed her hand
affectionately on his shoulder and with great tenderness said:--
"Don't think any more about that, Laurie, it's past and gone. You're a
new man, don't you see?"
"I haven't thought of it for five years!" cried Challoner, fiercely. "I
haven't dared to think of it--I haven't had time to think of it...." He
paused a moment to pull himself together, and then suddenly went on:
"But now I have got to think about it, if I'm going to be a father." He
sighed reminiscently. "Poor Hargraves, I can see him now, Miriam, as he
put up his arm...."
"Don't, Laurie!" she pleaded. "Don't! The forbidden subject--forget it,
dear!"
"I can't forget it!" he returned. "It's all before me now." He glared
into space, as a man might who witnessed before his very eyes some
conflict. "I can see it now, just as it happened----"
He stopped suddenly, fiercely, caught her roughly by the arm, and cried
in a loud voice:--
"Miriam, Miriam, thank Heaven I have thought about it! Listen, dear--I
can see it now--just as it happened." He stopped and looked down at her.
"Can you stand it, dear?"
"What is it?" asked his young wife, trembling with the horror of it all.
Challoner gripped her arm with painful force.
"I did not kill Richard Hargraves!" he cried in sudden joy. "No, I did
_not_ kill him!"
Miriam caught her husband about the neck and tried to soothe him.
"Laurie," she said gently, "you're beside yourself."
"No," he answered calmly enough, though evidently labouring under great
excitement, "no, I know! I did not kill Hargraves! It's the first time I
have thought about it. Five years ago everything was muddled--life was a
muddle then; and on that night at Cradlebaugh's everything was hazy. But
now, Miriam, it's as clear as day. I can see it--I do see it!" He lifted
his arm, his forefinger crooked significantly, and declared:--
"I shot...."
"Yes," she said eagerly, "you shot...."
"I shot at Hargraves, but I did not hit him. It's all come back; I can
see it now!" And pointing toward the junction of the side wall and the
ceiling, he went on to explain: "The bullet lodged in the panel of the
wall. Hargraves put up his arm like this--I meant to kill him and I
shot; but I didn't hit him. It was the last thing I remembered before I
toppled over in the big chair--that, and his starting over toward the
door. I remember that. It's all come back in a flash. But I never saw
him after that."
"Yet," she protested, "you confessed...."
"Yes," he answered, "I tell you everything was muddled--life was hazy. I
knew I shot at him--I knew I shot to kill. Of course I thought that I
had done it; but it's not so. I tried to do it, and then----"