Closely guarded, he walked to the door. He passed Kathleen standing in the vestibule, and she shrank on one side, which amused him. He clambered into the car that had brought him, followed by the policemen, and hummed a little tune.
He leaned over to say a final word to Angel.
“You think I am indecently cheerful,” he said, “but I feel as a man wearied with folly, who has the knowledge that before him lies the sound sleep that will bring forgetfulness.”
Then, as the car was moving off, he spoke again—
“Of course I killed Connor—it was inevitable.”
And then the car carried him away.
Angel locked the door of the deposit, and handed the key to Kathleen.
“I will ask Jimmy to take you home,” he said.
“What do you think of him?” said Jimmy.
“Spedding? Oh, he’s acted as I thought he would. He represents the very worst type of criminal in the world; you cannot condemn, any more than you can explain, such men as that. They are in a class by themselves—Nature’s perversities. There is a side to Spedding that is particularly pleasant.”