“I do recall now,” he told himself, “the cause of that row at Haymore Hall. Let me see——
“I had just arrived with my wife and my brother-in-law at Haymore, to take possession, when I was met by officers with a warrant for my arrest on the charge of murder——
“How was that, now? Let’s see—oh, yes! I was arrested upon a warrant, issued under the extradition treaty with the United States, charged with the murder of Randolph Hay in California, and of Jennie Montgomery in New York——”
Here the wretched man paused, shuddered and covered his face with his hands. The horror of his crime overcame him, as it had so often done, when it drove him to seek oblivion in strong drink, and finally made him a drunkard.
It was some time before he could resume his line of thought.
“I know,” he mused at length, “that I denied the charge and resisted the arrest, and that there was a fight. One of the officers clubbed me—on the head—and I fell like an ox, and knew no more. When I came to myself I was lying here.”
He paused again, and seemed to labor to understand his present position.
“How came I to be here?” he inquired of himself; and after a few minutes exclaimed:
“Oh, I know! I see it all now! I had given the living of Haymore to my brother-in-law, Cassius Leegh—the scoundrel! When I was brained by the club of that constable, of course I was more a dead than a living man, and in no condition to be carted off ten miles to the Chuxton jail! So I was placed under arrest and brought here in charge of constables. And here I am in my brother-in-law’s rectory, guarded by officers, and particularly by that Giant Gerion, who never leaves me, night or day—set fire to him!”
Gentleman Geff moaned and groaned and tossed until Longman brought him a glass of milk punch, which seemed to soothe him.