“There is no cause to call my father what neither God nor man has called him.”
“Cause enough! I know that right well.”
“Then it is only right you give proof of such assertions. Say what you mean and be done with it.”
“Ah! you are getting angry at last. Your father would have been spitting fire before this. But it was not with fire he slew Bele Trenby–no, indeed; it was with water. Did he not tell you so when he stood on the brink of Tophet?”
“God did not suffer his soul to be led near the awful place. When he gave up his ghost he gave it up to the merciful Father of spirits. It is wicked to speak lies of the living; it is abominable and dangerous to speak ill of the dead.”
“I fear neither the living nor the dead. I will say to my last breath that Liot Borson murdered Bele Trenby. He was long minded to do the deed; at last he did it.”
“How can you alone, of all the men and women in Lerwick, know this?”
“That night I dreamed a dream. I saw the moss and the black water, and Bele’s white, handsome face go down into it. And I saw your father there. What for? That he might do the murder in his heart.”
“The dream came from your own thoughts.”
“It came from Bele’s angel. The next day–yes, and many times afterward–I took to the spot the dog that loved Bele, and the creature whined and crouched to his specter. Men are poor, sightless creatures; animals see spirits where we are blind as bats.”