“I shall defend myself!” he exclaimed, edging slowly toward the door.
“You will do better to confess yourself. Is there no prayer that you wish to say?”
The Russian smiled incredulously.
“You seem very confident,” he sneered.
I saw that it was useless to try to rouse him to a sense of his peril. I pointed to the door, and pressed a knob on the wall.
The murderer made two steps from me, laid his fingers on the door-handle—and dropped dead instantly.