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"Did anybody see Rogers in that crowd?" Jeffrey asked as they rode along. "You know, the man that was in French Village this summer." "I don't know," Stocking answered. "You see they came up to the end of the rails, at Grafton, on a handcar. And then they scattered. Nobody's sure that he's seen any of 'em since. But they must be in the hills somewhere. And Rafe Gadbeau's with 'em.
What was there in that uncanny thing they called confession, that a man, guilty, guilty as as Rafe Gadbeau, could come to another man, and, by the saying of a few words, turn over and face death feeling that his guilt was wiped away? It was a delusion, of course. The saying of words could never wipe away Rafe Gadbeau's guilt, any more than it could take away this guilt from Jeffrey Whiting.
The girl was watching him with fright and wonder in her eyes. What was he going to say? But she let him go on. "No, I wasn't innocent," he said, as though to himself now. "I fooled myself into thinking that I was. But I was not. I meant to kill a man. I had meant to for a long time. Nothing but Rafe Gadbeau's quickness prevented me. No, I wasn't innocent. I was guilty in my heart.
One of the voices was certainly Gadbeau's. The other It was! It was! Though it was only a mumble, she knew it was Jeffrey Whiting who tried to speak! She took a step forward, ready to dash into the place, whatever it was. But the caution of the hills made her back away noiselessly into the brush. What could she do? Why? Oh, why had she not brought a rifle? Gadbeau was sure to be armed.
Another witness was called. He did not know that there was another. He had expected that Squires would begin his speech at once. He noticed that this witness was a girl from French Village whom he had seen several times. Now he remembered that she was Rafe Gadbeau's girl. What did they bring her here for? She could not know anything, and why did they want to pester the poor thing?
They might as well have asked the stones on the top of the Gaunt Rocks to tell Rafe Gadbeau's secret as to ask it from the Bishop. But this girl was different. You could not tell what she might do under the test. If she stood the test, if she kept the seal unbroken upon her lips, then would Cynthe be her willing slave for life.
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