I turned to the two men.
“I’ll answer for him now,” I said. “He never says what he doesn’t mean. You can let him go.”
They did so reluctantly, remonstrating a little and ready to pounce on him at once did he show sign of breaking his parole.
He picked up his hat and walked straight to the gate. Jason, who had been standing on the upmost step of the flight that led to the open door, regarding the strange struggle beneath him with starting eyes, moved a pace or two nearer shelter, with his head slewed backward in a hangdog fashion.
“Mr. Trender,” said Duke, in a hideous, mocking voice, “Miss Dolly Mellison sends her compliments and she drowned herself last night.”
I could see my brother stagger where he stood, and his face grow pale as a sheet.
“I won’t discuss the matter further just now,” went on the cripple, “as I am under promise to these gentlemen. After the inquest I may, perhaps, have something to say to you.”
He swept him a grotesque, ironical bow, another to us, and walked off down the street.
When he was out of sight, I turned to the men, thanked them warmly for their assistance, recompensed them to the best of my ability and ran up the steps to the house.
I found my brother inside, leaning white and shaky against the wall.