The man's huge frame stiffened at the question; she saw his hands
clench. But he kept his head turned from her; she could not see his
face. There followed a pause that seemed to her fevered imagination to
have something deadly in it. Then: "I hope he's gone where he belongs,"
said Rufus, with terrible deliberation.

Her cry of agony cut across his last word like the severing of a taut
string. She leapt to her feet, in that moment of anguish supremely
forgetful of self.

"Rufus!" she cried, and wildly gripped his arm, "You've never--left
him--to be--killed!"

She felt his muscles harden in grim resistance to her grasp. She saw
that his averted face was set like a stone mask.

"It's none of my business," he said, speaking through rigid lips.

She turned from him with a gasp of horror and sprang for the door. But
in an instant he wheeled, thrust out a great arm, and caught her. His
fingers closed upon her bare shoulder.

"Columbine!" he said.

She resisted him frantically, bending now this way, now that. But he
held her in spite of it, held her, and slowly brought her nearer to him.

"Stand still!" he said.