Murray wiped beads of perspiration from his face.
"So 'twas Bolling!" he muttered. "Curse the knave! What hath he done?"
"No more than attempted to murder me, sir—as I have attempted to tell you," I answered ironically.
Marjory came forward, hands clasped in expostulation.
"It isn't so! It can't be so! Tell him he lies, sir!" she pleaded with Murray.
He put her gently to one side.
"Peace, peace, my dear," he said. "You do not understand."
"But Bolling is the man you called 'Red Jack!'" she expostulated. "You presented me to him. You told him to be sure to remember my face. You jested about his hair and his evil looks."
"The man is likewise called 'The Red Death,' Mistress Murray," I said.
She turned to me, tears in her eyes.