'No, I am not worse, but I see it all now.—Tell him, Felix; I cannot say it again.'
'Fernando thinks—' Felix found he could hardly speak the words either—'Fernando is afraid that it was an accident of his own—'
'Don't say an accident. It was passion and spite,' broke in Fernando.
'That caused the fire at the Fortinbras Arms,' Felix was obliged to finish.
'Not on purpose!' exclaimed Mr. Audley.
'Almost as much as if it had been,' said Fernando. 'I smoked to spite the landlord for interfering, and threw away the end too angry to heed where. There!' he added grimly; 'Felix won't tell me how many I murdered besides my poor old black. How many?'
'Do not speak in that way, my poor boy,' said Mr. Audley. 'At least, this is better than the weight you have had on your mind so long.'
'How many?' repeated Fernando.
'Two more lives were lost,' said Mr. Audley gently, 'Mr. Jones's baby and its nurse. But you must not use harder words than are just, Fernando. It was a terrible result, but consequences do not make the evil.'
He made a kind of murmur; then turning round, uneasily said, 'That is not all; I have seen myself, Mr. Audley.'