"I wish I knew where to find it."

"Like to put me in the calaboose?"

"In the penitentiary. Yes, sir!" A moment later the question that
was in her thoughts leaped hotly from her lips. "Who are you,
sir, that dare to commit murder and boast of it?"

She had flicked him on the raw at last. Something that was near
to pain rested for a second in his eyes. "Murder is a hard name,
ma'am. And I didn't say he was daid, or any of the three," came
his gentle answer.

"You MEANT to kill them, anyhow."

"Did I?" There was the ghost of a sad smile about his eyes.

"The way you act, a person might think you one of Ned Bannister's
men," she told him, scornfully.

"I expect you're right."

She repented her a little at a charge so unjust. "If you are not
ashamed of your name why are you so loath to part with it?"

"Y'u didn't ask me my name," he said, a dark flush sweeping his
face.

"I ask it now."