' I saw what you did."
Her eyes were busy with the knitting now. She did not know what to say.
Then, he had known all since the night before! He knew it when he
pretended that his head ached--knew it as he lay by her side all night.
He knew it, and said nothing! But what had he done--what had he done? She
waited for she knew not what. George Masson was to come and inspect the
flume early that morning. Had he come? She had not seen him. But the
river was flowing through the flume: she could hear the mill-wheel
turning--she could hear the mill-wheel turning!
As she did not speak, with a curious husky shrillness to his voice he
said: "There he was down in the flume, there was I at the lever above,
there was the mill-wheel unlocked. There it was. I gripped the lever,
and--"
Her great eyes stared with horror. The knitting-needles stopped; a pallor
swept across her face. She felt as she did when she heard the
court-martial sentence Carvillho Gonzales to death.
The mill-wheel sounded louder and louder in her ears.
"You let in the river!" she cried. "You drove him into the wheel--you
killed him!"
"What else was there to do?" he demanded. "It had to be done, and it was
the safest way. It would be an accident. Such a thing might easily
happen."
"You have murdered him!" she gasped with a wild look.
"To call it murder!" he sneered.
Pages:
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135