"That can be explained!" he retorted; but his hand fell softly from the latch. "We have plenty of witnesses who saw his suicide."
"Suicide!" I sneered. "What of rule three, you one of seven murderers!"
Sir Charles Venner re-crossed the room and quietly resumed his chair. His face was still as expressionless as a mask, but all the lustre had departed from his eyes.
"What do you know of rule three?" he asked in lifeless tones after a long intense pause.
I knew so little that it seemed necessary to lie. "Enough to hang you," I murmured, smiling pleasantly. "I should tell you perhaps, my dear Sir Charles, that I have impersonated Sir William Dagmar more often than I have fingers and toes—during the past twelve months. Ha! you start!" I laughed wickedly. "Did you really permit yourself to dream that you have guessed the full extent of my depredations on your order—from your one or two chance and predestined discoveries. Oh! oh! Ha! ha! This is really too good!"
He bit his lips and eyed me sternly. "I shall need better proof than your word," he said.
I nodded, got to my feet and strode to the door. I threw it open and with an elaborate bow pointed to the passage.
"You shall have it," I cried, "but only in the police court!"
"Bluff!" he sneered. "Bluff!" He did not move from his chair.
"Oh!" said I, "you choose to pay yourself a compliment! So you think I would follow your example of a moment since? But you are wrong!" I walked to the electric bell and pressed the button.