“I shall have no alternative.”
Again the doctor considered while his eyes grew more sombre and his expression more hopeless. At last he seemed to come to a decision. He spoke in a low voice.
“Ask your questions and I’ll answer them if I can.”
French nodded.
“Did you ever,” he said slowly, “admit to any one that you had committed this murder?”
Philpot looked at him in surprise.
“Never!” he declared emphatically.
“Then how,” French went on, slapping the confession down on the table, “how did you come to write this?”
Philpot stared at the document as if his eyes would start out of his head. His face expressed incredulous amazement, but here again French, who was observing him keenly, felt his suspicions grow. Philpot was surprised at the production of the paper; it was impossible to doubt the reality of his emotion. But he did not read it. He evidently recognised it and knew its contents. For a moment he gazed breathlessly, then he burst out with a bitter oath.
“The infernal scoundrel!” he cried furiously. “I knew he was bad, but this is more than I could have imagined! That——Roper is at the bottom of this, I’ll swear! It’s another of his hellish tricks!”