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"
I
reckon
,
"
said
Archie
laconically
and
,
after
a
pause
,
"
I
was
a
convict
for
nigh
on
to
forty
years
.
"
Scarlett
gasped
,
and
,
for
a
moment
,
shrank
back
against
the
cushions
.
This
then
was
the
answer
to
the
riddle
of
Archie
,
his
unwillingness
to
tell
his
last
name
or
the
place
of
his
birth
or
any
scrap
of
his
past
life
,
the
answer
to
the
difficulty
with
which
he
spoke
and
his
cold
hatred
of
the
world
.
Forty
years
!
He
must
have
gone
into
prison
a
young
man
.
Forty
years
!
Why
--
he
must
have
been
a
life
prisoner
and
lifers
were
--
"
Was
it
--
murder
?
"
"
Yes
,
"
answered
Archie
briefly
,
as
he
flapped
the
reins
.
"
M
'
wife
.
"
Scarlett
's
eyelids
batted
rapidly
with
fright
.
The
mouth
beneath
the
beard
seemed
to
move
,
as
if
he
were
smiling
grimly
at
her
fear
.
"
I
ai
n't
goin
'
to
kill
you
,
Ma
'm
,
if
that
's
what
's
frettin
'
you
.
Thar
ai
n't
but
one
reason
for
killin
'
a
woman
.
"
"
You
killed
your
wife
!
"
"
She
was
layin
'
with
my
brother
.
He
got
away
.
I
ai
n't
sorry
none
that
I
kilt
her
.
Loose
women
ought
to
be
kilt
.
The
law
ai
n't
got
no
right
to
put
a
man
in
jail
for
that
but
I
was
sont
.
"
"
But
--
how
did
you
get
out
?
Did
you
escape
?
Were
you
pardoned
?
"
