Evered answered slowly, “Yes. She was--lying over there when I found her.” He pointed to the spot.
Darrin looked that way; and after a moment, eyes upon the curling smoke of his pipe, he asked casually, “Where was Semler?”
His tone was easy, mildly interested and that was all; nevertheless, his word came to Evered with an abrupt and startling force. Semler? He had told no one save John that Semler was here that day; he knew John would never have told. Ruth knew; but she too was close-mouthed. Fraternity did not know. Yet Darrin knew.
“Where was Semler?” Darrin had asked, so casually.
And Evered cried, “Semler? Who said he was here?”
Darrin looked surprised. “Why, I did not know it was a secret. He told me--himself.”
Evered was tense and still where he sat. “He--you know him?”
Darrin laughed a little. “I wouldn’t say that. I don’t care for the man. I met him a little before I came up here, and told him where I was coming; and he advised me not to come. Told me of this--tragedy.”
Darrin nodded. “Yes; how he tried to fight off the bull.”
Evered came to his feet, half crouching. “The black liar and coward ran like a rabbit,” he said under his breath; and his face was an ugly thing to see.
Darrin cried, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--waken old sorrows. It doesn’t matter. Forget it.” He sought, palpably, to change to another topic. “Are you getting in your apples yet?”
Evered would not be put off. “See here,” he said. “What did Dane Semler tell you?”
“I’ve forgotten,” said Darrin. He smiled cheerfully. “That is to say, I mean to forget. It’s not my affair. Let’s not talk about it.”
Over Evered swept then one of those impulses to speech, akin to the impulses of confession. He exclaimed with a tragic and miserable note in his voice. “By God, if I don’t talk about it sometime it’ll kill me.”
Darrin looked up at him, gently offered; “I’ll listen, then. It may ease you to--tell the story over. Go ahead, Mr. Evered. Sit down.”
Evered did not sit down. But the story burst from him. Something, Darrin’s sympathy or the anger Darrin’s reference to Semler had roused, touched hidden springs within the man. He spoke swiftly, eagerly, as though with a pathetic desire to justify himself. He moved to and fro, pointing, illustrating.