He felt that he was in a very dangerous position.
All these thoughts rushed rapidly through his brain, and he was almost inclined to look upon himself as an accessory.
“Ah!” he ejaculated. “Cursed be the hour when I first set eyes upon you.”
“It’s no use you talking in that way. We have known each other for many years. There are numbers of persons who will vouch for that, and so it’s no use your endeavouring to shirk the question. This miserable business may, in a great measure, be attributed to my love for you.”
“Are you mad, woman?” cried Gatliffe, drawing back with ineffable disgust. “Your love for me! I have brought myself to a pretty pass, it seems.”
“No doubt you have, dearest,” she returned with perfect composure.
He now saw the nature of the woman with whom he had to deal, and the last words uttered by Purvis seemed to be almost prophetic.
He stood for a moment or two gazing upon the woman who was so callous and hardened that she did not demonstrate the faintest symptom of remorse for the atrocious act she had perpetrated.
“So,” said she, “it would appear that you, like the rest, are disposed to round on me. I confess I was not prepared for this, but after all it does not matter.”
“I do not understand you, woman,” he ejaculated. “I am appalled, and am utterly at a loss. A murder has been committed before my very eyes—a crime so infamous that I stand aghast—and am almost petrified with astonishment. Had I guessed your horrible purpose——”