"Anything is possible in a case like this. But you have nothing to fear. Now, will you tell me--" "Do you think I did it?" "I know that you did not. But I think you know something about it." "It would cast no light on the mystery. He was shot from that grove on a pitch dark night, and that is all there is to it." "Let me be the judge of that." "Very well. I had put out my light--upstairs--and, as I was nervous, I looked out of the window to see if Dave was coming. I so longed to have him come--and go! Then I happened to glance in the direction of the grove, and I saw some one sneaking about there--" "Yes!" He half rose, his eyes expanding, his nostrils dilating. "Go on. Go on." "I told you I was nervous--wrought up from that dreadful scene at the club. I just felt like an adventure! I slipped down stairs and out of the house by the kitchen door--Frieda takes the key of the back hall door on Saturday nights--thinking I would watch the burglar; of course that was what I thought he must be; and I knew that Dave would be along in a minute--" "How long was this after he telephoned? It would take him some time to walk from Cummack's; and he didn't leave at once--" "Oh, quite a while after. I was sure then that he would be along in a minute or two. Well--it may seem incredible to you, but I really felt as if excitement of that dangerous sort would be a relief." "I understand perfectly." Rush spoke with the fatuousness of man who believes that love and complete comprehension of the object beloved are natural corollaries. "But--but that is not the sort of story that goes down with a jury of small farmers and trades-people. They don't know much about your sort of nerves. But go on." "Well, I managed to get into the grove without being either seen or heard by that man. I am sure of that. He moved round a good deal, and I thought he was feeling about for some point from which he could make a dart for the house. Then I heard Dave in Dawbarn Street, singing. Then I saw him under the lamp-post. After that it all happened so quickly I can hardly recall it clearly enough to describe. The man near me crouched. I can't tell you what I thought then--if I knew he was going to shoot--or why I didn't cry out. Almost before I had time to think at all, he fired, and Dave went down." "But what about that other bullet? Are you sure there was no one else in the grove?" "There may have been a dozen. I heard some one running afterwards; there may have been more than one." "Did you have a pistol?" He spoke very softly. "Don't be afraid to tell me. It might easily have gone off accidentally--or something deeper than your consciousness may have telegraphed an imperious message to your hand."