He had seen what I was doing. He called me a cur, and the memory of
my ancestor's vengeance rushed on me, so I struck him with the knife, and
left it resting in his heart as he fell. Afterwards it was easy. No one
knew me. Those who had seen me thought that I was either David or Robert
Hume-Frazer. I depended on the police and the servants to complete the
mystery. They did. I saw David meet the same girl in a white dress near
the lodge, so I sent the post-card which I made Jiro write for me. He
wrote it badly, which was all the better for my purpose. I meant David to
be hanged by the law; then I would marry Margaret. That is all. Give me
some brandy. I am dreaming now. I can see curling shapes. Ah!"
He gulped down half a tumblerful of raw spirits hastily procured by Brett.
Again he attempted to shake off the torpid state that was slowly mastering
him. He lifted his eyes feebly to Brett's face, and his face contorted in
a ghastly smile.
"You!" he croaked. "I should have killed you! You carried my stick that
night in Middle Street. Why was I not warned? Did you follow the girl from
the hotel? I was a fool. I tried to stop the inquiry by getting rid of
David Hume-Frazer. As if he had brains enough to get on my track! About
that girl! She believes in me. She does not know anything of my past. Do
not tell her.
Pages:
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283