"
The tramp polished the blade of his huge knife on his greasy sleeve.
"I might spill a little blood I s'pose," he muttered aloud, "but I reckin
I'll let you live awhile yet."
Then he turned as if to depart.
"Don't go yet," cried the young cottage-owner, as his eye caught sight of
a man approaching from the wood road. His thought was that with help he
might capture the tramp.
"Wal, why not?"
Perry Jounce halted.
"I want you to answer a few questions."
"Heave ahead."
"Tell me what you know about my poor Victoria's death. You were here just
before."
"Who told you so?"
"It doesn't matter."
"I know now. It was that engineer from Grandon. I've forgot his name. He
peached on me, I reckin."
"You have guessed the truth."
"Rans, don't you trust that man."
"Why not?"
"_He_ kin tell you how Vic come ter die, he kin. 'Twas jealousy and the
like that did it."
"Do you mean that?"
Ransom Vane sprang forward and clutched the arm of the tramp.
"Let go. Yes, I mean it. _He_ killed Victoria 'cause he thought she'd
make trouble atwixt him an' another gal, that's the truth ef I hang fur
it.
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