I expect some poor tramp
will be arrested for the murder of the girl, and hang, like enough."
"And you--you killed her?
"That would be telling, my dear. These girls get a fellow into a deuce of
a scrape sometimes, let alone a fellow's wife. But, my dear, let's drop
this subject and talk of something more agreeable."
The creak of a door startled both.
The man seemed startled.
He turned his head, then came to his feet with a hissing cry.
He was peering into the muzzle of a glistening revolver, behind which
stood the form of our Yankee friend.
The light in the room was not brilliant, yet faces were plainly
discernible.
"August Bordine, I arrest you for the murder of Victoria Vane!" cried the
Yankee, in an awful voice.
CHAPTER V.
THE TRAMP ON DECK.
For full a minute not a word passed between the two men. The sodden eyes
of the tramp were fixed in a sullen gaze on the face of Ransom Vane.
"What do you want here?" finally demanded Vane in a harsh voice.
"I came to see you."
"To see me?"
"That's what I said.
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