CHAPTER XIII

A JURY OF SEVEN The Englishman and the girl were alone in the shanty. The echoes of his horrified words had scarcely died away. Murdered! Shot! Bryan was dazed. He was not a man of particularly swift perceptions, and the shock of the thing was great. He stooped down and felt the prostrate man’s heart. Then he glanced at the wound, and in doing so noticed the disarrangement of the coat. “The man has been robbed!” he said, looking up quickly. “Who did it?” She looked half-fearfully around her. “No one robbed him,” sh…