"But the murder?"
"I expected to find Horran dead," said Jerce, "and yet, knowing what a weak fool this boy is, I feared lest he should fail. I entered by the window, which that ass of a Wentworth had ordered to be opened, as I knew he would, and Horran raised himself in bed. He recognised me, and, unable to explain my intrusion, I caught an assegai from the wall and stabbed him to the heart. He cried out, but only feebly. Then I ran away and Clarke caught me. I kept him quiet by saying that I would tell about Frank. Afterwards, I motored back to town in another two hours and a trifle more, and regained my house in safety."
"Oh, you villain!" said Clarice again, striking her hands together.
"Next day, as you know, I came down and played my part in the comedy, Miss Baird. I saw the mark of the Purple Fern, and Ferdinand here told me how he had stamped the dead body. I gave him back my cheque, and so acted honourably. So that is all, unless," added Jerce, with hesitation, "my love for you--my true and genuine love----"
"Oh, no, no," cried Clarice, with horror, and ran across to Anthony; "have you got it written down? Then let that wretch sign it, and send him out of the house."
"But the police ought to be told," said Ackworth, in a low voice.
"I say no," cried Clarice, stamping her foot. "I will tell you why at a later period. Sign, Sir Daniel, sign, and rid this house of your wicked presence."
Jerce looked at her gravely, then deliberately signed the paper on the spot pointed out by Ackworth. Anthony and Clarke signed as witnesses, and then the soldier handed the paper to Clarice, who thrust it into her bosom. This having been done, she went to the window and opened it. "Go!" she said to Sir Daniel.
"Surely, you will let me get my coat and hat," he said, quietly, and, with a last look at her, he went into the hall. Shortly he appeared at the door again. "Good-bye for ever," he said, in an unemotional voice. "I'll go this way--by the front door. And to-morrow you shall hear of my death."
"Unhappy man!" cried Clarke. "Do not add sin to sin----" But Jerce was gone. He went out of the house, and into the gathering darkness of the night--but not to the merciful death he designed for himself. As he passed through the gate, Jane limped after him quietly, not barking as was her custom. She seemed to know that her time had come. And so Jerce, all unknowingly, went to his doom.