“I did, but that does not say that I should have denounced him.”
“There was no need for you to do so,” said Moon coldly; “sooner or later the truth would have become known. Grison was already suspected.”
“So he told his sister,” said Bakche quickly, “and for that reason she reproached him.”
“Why not say that I murdered him?” sneered the woman quivering.
“You did, but not on the night you advised him to make the appointment with this gentleman.” He pointed to Sorley huddled up in his chair.
“When then, if you please, liar that you are?”
“I am no liar, and you know it, madam. It was on the night that the appointment was kept that you killed your brother. I determined to come on that night, so as to overhear the interview between Mr. Sorley and your brother, and I did. Mr. Sorley wanted the peacock and Grison refused to surrender it. Then Mr. Sorley left.”
“And Grison was alive? Grison was alive?” cried the man in question.
“Yes,” said Bakche, answering the question and a look of Moon’s. “Grison was alive. Mr. Sorley is perfectly innocent.”
“Thank God! oh thank God!” wept Sorley hysterically, and sliding from his chair he knelt down covering his face with his grimy hands. Alan nodded to Dick in a somewhat triumphant way, as he had never been sure of Sorley’s guilt, and Dick nodded penitently in return, admitting silently his error.