“Young woman, you’re making the mistake of your life. I’m a’mighty sorry for you, an’ you are going to be right regretful yourself when you have time to think.” Grant made a step forward to lay a checking hand on his friend’s arm. He would have spoken but the girl interrupted. “My father’s blood on this man’s hands!--the dagger from the wall of his chamber--” Of a sudden the last shred of restraint she had battled to impose upon herself gave way and a flood came under propulsion of hysteria. Out fluttered her hands to point the object of her execration. “You--I do not know you! Just a chance meeting between us and we part. Then fate brings you to this house wounded--snatched from death. An escaped convict from a chain gang--you yourself admitted as much just last night. With good reason my cousin, Colonel Urgo, must have caused your arrest. Why should I not believe you capable of killing my father? Why not when the signs of his very blood cry out against you!” “Señorita O’Donoju--” Grant’s effort to check her was fruitless, for she had whirled upon Bagley: “And you! Unknown to my father--unknown to me. He brought you here on your own representation. You said you were hunting for your friend to whom we had offered our hospitality. Can you deny that both of you discovered opportunity here to kill--and then to rob?” The storm that had swept the girl through this welter of imaginings, illogical, frenetic, took heavy toll of her physical reserves. Now she stood trembling, white-faced in the spreading dawn, pitiful. Her small hands were clenched into fists across her breast. Flutterings of uncontrolled nerves made the flesh of her temples pulsate. Grant, for all the crushing horror of these moments, felt pity pushing through the numbness Benicia’s accusation had wrought. Never had he seen a woman so tortured by the devils of hysteria; he was appalled. He spoke to her gently: “If you will permit me to go to my room while you make further investigations I will answer any questions they may suggest. It must be plain to you, Señorita O’Donoju, that I cannot escape from this place.” The girl gave him a dazed look as if she hardly comprehended what he said, then she slowly nodded and, beckoning the Indians to follow, she turned and disappeared beyond the patio’s green. Bim threw an arm over his pal’s shoulder and accompanied him to his room. At the door he whirled Grant about with a strong grip of both his hands and gave him a grin more eloquent than any sermon on fortitude. “When the she-ones get to stampedin’, old pal, they sure have us helpless men winging. Now go in there and get a sleep while I take a look round below your window and elsewheres.”