“She—she—she,” mocked his wife, “you, with your she—she—she. You are a murderer; you had the peacock; you have the knife which killed My darling brother. Deny it if you dare.”
“I do deny it,” stammered Sorley with an attempt to assert his dignity. “I had the peacock, because you brought it here secretly.”
“You lie, as you have always done. I did not. Perhaps you will say that I brought the knife—the dagger—the thing with which Baldwin was stabbed also, you animal!”
“No—no—no. I have never seen the knife. But I believe you would have brought it if you could, so as to make me out to be guilty.”
“You liar!” raged the woman, while both Moon and Alan stood aside silent, wondering what would be brought forth next. “I came here on that day when I warned you, and walked all over the place while you were snoring, like the hog you are. Here!” she brushed Moon aside with a force surprising in so small a woman, and marched to the open panel. “I looked in here, where I always knew you kept your bits of glass, and I intended to take some, so as to make you suffer, just as I did with the peacock; just as I did with the peacock, you wretch! But I found hidden there the dagger which was used to murder my dearest brother, so I left things alone knowing you were the beast who murdered him, and knowing that I at last had you in my power to hunt down.” She thrust her arm into the recess and tore out tray after tray of jewels which scattered themselves about the floor, and finally pulled out the stiletto which Marie had found and Alan had seen. “There! oh there you are! Do you see this, policeman? blood on the handle? Yes, take it, and bring it up in the evidence against him.”
Moon handled the stiletto with a frown. “This looks bad,” he said to the terrified Sorley; “is it yours?”
“It was—it was,” stammered the old man, shaking with nervous fear, “but if I were truly guilty I would not dare to say so. I bought it in Venice—in Italy—where I—I——” he broke off with a cry rising to face his wife with what courage he was able to summon to his heart. “And you stole it over twenty years ago, along with the peacock; you stole many things—you know you did, Louisa. I believe—yes—I believe——”
“That I put it there,” interrupted Miss Grison with a shrill laugh. “Oh I daresay. To save your own bacon you can say no more and no less. Liar and murderer and wife beater that you are! You struck me once, you did, you did, and now I have come back to repay the blow with interest. Man!” she faced round fiercely to Moon, “why don’t you put the handcuffs on him? Make him a shame and disgrace in the village where he has lorded it for so many guilty years. I could——” she dashed forward with a raised arm, her face working with furious passion.
Fuller caught her back. “Steady! steady!”
“Beast!” she turned and struck him full in the face, whereupon Moon came to the young man’s assistance, and the two forced her back into a chair. For a few minutes she struggled, screaming, spitting, kicking and fighting with all the abnormal strength which her fury against her husband gave her. All at once she collapsed, and became as weak as an infant, to burst into tears, and huddle up, a nerveless heap, in the deep chair.