I drew out my revolver, made a show of examining it to make sure that it was loaded, and put it back in my pocket. I had run my hands over him before to make certain that he had no weapon.
“What are you going to do?” he asked, with a glance of fresh terror.
“Not to use that unless you force me,” I said, with a look which he could read easily enough. “As soon as you’re ready to listen I’ve something to say.”
He hid his face behind his trembling hands in such a condition of fright that I could have pitied him had it not been necessary for me to play on his fears. He sat like this in dead silence for some minutes, and I waited, thinking swiftly how to carry out the plan I had formed.
“What is it you want?” he asked at length.
“You came here to-night to meet the Countess Bokara in the belief that she could put into your hands such papers as would give you an excuse to have me put to death, and when she had done it you meant to have had her arrested. Instead of that you fell into her trap, and she was on the point of killing you when I interfered and saved your life. Then she turned on me and struggled to kill me in order that she might carry out her purpose. Her failure drove her insane, and in her frenzy of baulked revenge she plunged the knife into her own heart. You will therefore write out a statement of these facts while they are still fresh in your mind, sign it, and give it to me.”
I pointed to my table, on which I had laid the writing materials in readiness. He was fast recovering his wits, if not his courage, and he listened intently as I spoke. I saw a look of cunning pass over his face as he agreed to what I said, and crossed to the writing-table. He thought he could easily disown the statement, and had been quick to perceive the use he could make of the facts against me. But he did not know the further plan I had, and he wrote out a clear statement exactly as I had required.
“Seal it with your private seal,” I said when he had signed it, his handwriting throughout having been purposely shaky. He would have demurred, but I soon convinced him I was in no mood to be fooled with. “Your seal can’t be disowned as a forgery,” I said pointedly. “And now, as your hand has recovered its steadiness, you can write this again—this time, if you please, so that no one can mistake it;” and while he did this I watched him closely to prevent a similar trick.
“Good!” I exclaimed when all was finished. The second paper he had written I folded up carefully and placed in my pocket; the first I laid inside the dress of the dead woman, in such a position that anyone finding the body must see the paper.
“That will explain what has happened when the body is found,” I said drily. “I want the facts made very plain.” He looked at me with an expression of hate and fear and cunning combined.