“What!”
My father had sprung to his feet. Somehow, I found myself by his side. Francis still grovelled on the floor.
“Up, man, and tell me all the truth,” my father cried out in a voice of thunder; “up on your feet and speak like a man.”
He obeyed at once, trembling in every limb. Then he faltered out his story:
“I was in the wood that night. It was dark; I lost my way. Suddenly I heard voices—yours and Morton’s. You were struggling within a few feet of me. Before I could interfere you had thrown him down and rushed away. I heard him breathing hard, and I saw Mr. Marx steal out from behind a tree and creep up to him. Morton heard, too, and sprang up. They struggled together; perhaps in the darkness, Morton mistook him for you. I remembered the quarry and rushed out. I was too late.
“There was a fearful flash of lightning and I saw Marx put forth all his strength and throw the other into the slate-pit. He turned round and saw me.
“He would have hurled me over, too, if he had dared, but I was strong and he was exhausted. So he offered me money to go away. I accepted, never thinking that they would fix the crime upon me. Marx had thought it all out with a devilish cunning. He provided me with disguises and told me where to go to and how to get there. When I was safe away and read the papers, I saw at once how I had been trapped. I had pleaded guilty to the murder.
“Time went on and I grew more miserable every day. Marx sent me plenty of money—too much. I began to drink. I was ill. When I recovered I wrote to tell him that I could bear it no longer and that I was coming to see him. I told him that I meant to go to a magistrate after I had given him time to get out of the country. He dared me to come to the Castle. Still, I came. It was dusk when I got here. He met me in the avenue. He offered me large sums of money to go away, but I was determined and refused everything. It was then from something he let fall in his anger that I knew how he had been deceiving you. Then I would not listen to him any more and bade him stand out of the way. He let me pass him and then struck me on the back of the head with some heavy weapon.”
“My God!” I cried. “I was close to you. I heard you cry and I met Mr. Marx directly afterwards. He must have thrown you down the gravel-pit.”
“It was there I found myself when I came to my senses,” Francis continued. “Directly I sat up and tried to think over what had happened I began to feel my head swim. After that everything is blurred and dim in my mind. I fled. The second time, you, Mr. Morton, saved his life from me, as my fingers were closing upon his throat.