Читать книгу A Battle for Right; Or, A Clash of Wits онлайн

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“Perhaps you didn’t kill him,” she whispered. “Perhaps he was not really dead.”

“Yes, he was. A doctor was in the room—a friend of mine. He examined him, and pronounced him quite dead. Then I ran away.”

“And that is all you know about it?”

“I heard afterward that the coroner’s jury found a verdict of ‘Accidental death.’”

“Then you have nothing to fear.”

“My own conscience. And, if I were to go back home, there are persons who know that I killed Richard Jarvis. My father is a wealthy, influential man, and he may have hushed it up. But I know. So does he.”

“Haven’t you had any letters from your father, or anybody at your home, since you left?”

“No. It was two years ago that I left, and nobody knows where I am. I have been up in the back country ever since, and I have changed my name, too. I won’t tell you my real name. It would not do any good. But you and I have been friends, and I don’t want you to think I’m a coward. That’s why I’ve told you my story.”

“I understand.”

“I’m sure you do. When I knew that Richard Jarvis was dead, I made a solemn vow never to fight again, no matter what might be the circumstances. It has been a hard vow to keep, but I’ve done it somehow. I never had to be called a coward on account of it until to-night, however. That is why I’m going away.”