"Judas!"
Ronnie Morelle stood, his finger outstretched stiffly pointing at the other.
"Judas—J—U—D—A—S. That is the word!"
Open-mouthed Steppe lurched toward him.
"You—you." He struck, but his blow went wide and then Ronnie had him by the shoulders and they looked into one another's eyes.
Beryl, horrified, sick with fear, saw her husband's face go livid, saw him grimace painfully, monstrously.
"I know you—!" he screamed. "I know you! You're Sault! Ambrose Sault!—you're dead! They hanged you, blast you! Ambrose Sault—" He put out his huge hands as to ward off a ghastly sight.
"Come along, Beryl," he mumbled, "you mustn't stay here—it is Sault. Oh, Christ—"
He went down in a heap.
Beryl came forward groping like one blind.