"Then you believe," he said, "that I killed him?"
"It is no concern of mine," I cried hoarsely. "I do not want to know. I do not want to hear. But I tell you that the man's face haunts me. He asked for me in the village. I feel that he came to Rowchester to see me. And he is dead. Whatever he came to say or to tell me will be buried with him. Who was he? Tell me that?"
Ray smoked on for a few moments reflectively.
"Sit down, sit down!" he said gruffly, "and do abandon that tragical aspect. The creature was not worth all this agitation. He lived like a dog, and he died like one."
"It is true, then?" I murmured.
"If you insist upon knowing," Ray said coolly, "I killed him! There are insects upon which one's foot falls, reptiles which one removes from the earth without a vestige of a qualm, with a certain sense of relief. He was of this order."
"He was a human being," I answered.
"He was none the better for that," Ray declared. "I have known animals of finer disposition."
"You at least," I said fiercely, "were not his judge. You struck him in the dark, too. It was a cowardly action."
Ray turned his head. Then I saw that around his neck was a circular bandage.