"Yes, Glass killed both Fletcher and Carpenter," replied Hannasyde.
Glass looked at him with a kind of impersonal interest. "Do you know all, then?"
"Not all, no. Was Angela Angel your sister?"
Glass stiffened, and said in a hard voice: "I had a sister once who was named Rachel. But she is dead, yea, and to the godly dead long before her sinful spirit left her body! I will not speak of her. But to him who led her into evil, and to him who caused her to slay herself I will be as a glittering sword that shall devour flesh!"
"Oh, my God!" muttered the Sergeant.
The blazing eyes swept his face. "Who are you to call upon God, who mock at righteousness? Take up that pencil, and write what I shall tell you, that all may be in order. Do you think I fear you? I do not, nor all the might of man's law! I have chosen the way of truth."
The Sergeant sank back into his chair, and picked up the pencil. "All right," he said somewhat thickly. "Go on."
Glass addressed Hannasyde. "Is it not enough that I say it was by my hand that these men died?"
"No. You know that's not enough. You must tell the whole truth." Hannasyde scanned the Constable's face, and added: "I don't think your sister's name need be made public, Glass. But I must know all the facts. She met Carpenter when he was touring the Midlands, and played for a week at Leicester, didn't she?"
"It is so. He seduced her with fair words and a liar's tongue. But she was a wanton at heart. She went willingly with that man of Belial, giving herself to a life of sin. From that day she was as one dead to us, her own people. Even her name shall be forgotten, for it is written that the wicked shall be silent in darkness. When she slew herself I rejoiced, for the flesh is weak, and the thought of her, yea, and her image, was as a sharp thorn."