Advancing very slowly, one foot in front of the other, with the outstretched hands wavering, yet ever pointing, the man took two steps in our direction. He tried to speak, and I saw the lips move in a vain effort. Then as his face worked strangely, there burst forth the words in a half shriek:
“You—you. You were killed.”
Bartley's voice broke in upon the silence, cool and sharp:
“No! You killed the wrong man.”
The uncouth figure half stumbled, and there came a despairing moan from the trembling lips. The hand dropped limply to his side. He gave one wild, appealing look around the room, then his eyes came back to Patton. I saw the veins in his forehead swell, and his face flush a vivid red. He half started to gather himself for a leap in our direction—started, only to partly turn. There came a half groan from his lips—a despairing cry, and then suddenly he fell with a crash to the floor. Fell, to move his hands convulsively for a moment, and then become very still. Carter's next-door neighbor—the minister—lay dead at our feet.
Chapter XVII.
The Case Is Ended
Several hours later found us gathered in Carter's living room. It had been a very active two hours. Our first attention had been given to the secretary, for it needed but a glance to tell that the minister was beyond any aid of ours. We carried her to Carter's house, where his housekeeper placed her in bed, while we called the doctor. We had reached both the coroner and the chief of police, and when their duties had been completed, they had all gathered in Carter's house.
We were a somber-looking group of men. The horror and nervous tension of the last few hours was still with us. No one felt very much at ease, and my eyes still saw the amazing scene in the boat house. The heavy face of the chief wore the most bewildered look I have ever seen, and it seemed as if he still found it impossible to believe all that had taken place. Only Ranville and Bartley appeared to be unmoved, and the Englishman's face wore an admiring look whenever he glanced at Bartley.
It was the chief who voiced the thought which was in all our minds. He turned to Bartley, and his heavy voice asked the question we all wished answered.
“Mr. Bartley,” he asked, “for God's sake, tell us how you doped out this thing. I can't believe yet the minister killed those two men. To save my life I can't see it.”