Edith moved close and peered in. “I’ll have that well scrubbed out to-morrow. It’s dreadful!”
Derrick laughed. “Please wait till I ask it.” He took out the thing and set it beside the lamp.
“It used to stand on the other side of him.” Jean’s voice was quiet and steady.
“I know, but that won’t matter this time, and,” he added thoughtfully, “I want it to be visible from the window.”
He paused, then sent her a glance that gave her renewed fortitude. “Now I’m going to get into position. Please don’t try and help me unless you feel you must, and it can only last a few minutes. You and Edith stand behind the screen, if you feel that staying there won’t be too much for you, and above all don’t stir till I do. It will all turn on Martin’s first words. If anything happens at the window, leave it to me. When Perkins knocks do not answer on any account. Is the lamp right?”
Jean nodded.
He pressed her hand comfortingly, and again their eyes met in a gaze of perfect understanding.
“Get behind the screen now,” he whispered, “and don’t look at me.”
He put on the velveteen jacket and took the dead man’s chair. Leaning his head forward on the desk, the blurred stain was but a few inches from his throat. The deadly creese was beside him. He could see the jade god, its sardonic eyes bent on him, the cruel lips curved as though they comprehended the grim irony of the moment. Under that scrutiny he felt once more the mesmeric power evidenced here only the day before.
“Edith,” he murmured.