"In the little parlour which gives on to the terrace."
Had I possessed any doubt before as to his complicity, the doubt would have vanished now. He reeled for a moment as if he had been struck, and the blood mottled in his cheeks.
"The house-door may be left open for one man, but two men may enter it," said I.
"You saw?" He took a step round the table and leaned across the corner of it. "What did you see?"
I took up a lighted candle from the table.
"I will show you," said I, and walked to the door.
He followed me, at first with uncertain steps. The steps grew firm behind my back.
They seemed to me significant of a growing purpose—so in the hall I stopped.
"We are good cousins, you and I," said I, holding the candle so that the flame lighted his face.
"Without a doubt," says he, readily. "You begin to see that you have mistaken me."