Eustace did not reply.
"Why don't you speak?" she continued. "Are you struck dumb?"
Then came Eustace's voice, like the cry of a despairing soul:
"You are a devil! Why have you driven me to this? I hate you, hate you, hate you! You fiend, you have killed my sister!"
Fowler did not wait for me to act. He seized me by the arm, and pulled me after him into the room.
"What!" screamed Ida "you two!"
"Yes," said Fowler--and in the midst of my own excitement I could not avoid observing the expression of calm satisfaction on his face--"we two."
"What are you here for?"
"For reasons, Ida White," replied Fowler, "which may or may not be fatal to yourself. Follow what I am about to say. We have here a confession from this young gentleman which, if true--that is, if it can be proved by documentary evidence--will bring undoubted disgrace upon you, but neither death by the hangman's hands nor penal servitude for life."
She recoiled, and echoed,