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 her bosom in its astonished question of identity. "I'd rather owe it to you than anybody in the world, Elizabeth. Wasn't it you?"

She shook her head, her wistful face pale, her friendly eyes stretched wide.

"It wouldn't have been his arm if'd taken a shot at Gus Sandiver," she replied. She placed her hand impetuously over the one that clasped her own, as if to comfort him for the illusion he had held. "No, no, Doctor Hall; I wasn't there, I didn't even hear the shooting."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"So am I."

"I told Justice you were not there, but he was positive. I've been swelling around all day in the belief I was debtor to somebody I was proud to owe."

"Maybe it was one of the girls in the boarding-train."

she suggested, the thought appearing to make her cold. She drew her hands away.

"They couldn't shoot with anything but a chunk of coal," he said miserably. "Who the dickens do you suppose it was?"

"There are not so many ladies running around loose in this town," she said, her manner implying they were altogether too numerous, at that.

"Justice is an infernal old liar!" he declared. "I don't believe he knows who fired that shot any more than I do."

"Maybe not," she said, assuming indifference.

"There's only one lady in the world I'd accept such a service of," he declared hotly.

"I don't see how you could help yourself," said she.