"Where is he ?" she said.
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.