“I always meant to put you wise,” Cranford said. “You’ll pardon me. I couldn’t afford to give anything away. And I told you no lies. I didn’t murder Albert Lunt. But I killed him. Fair and clean, sir. On my soul it’s as good a bit of work as ever I did. He was a yellow dog. It was up to me to wipe him out. This is the way of it, doctor. When they said he wasn’t at Prior’s Colney I laid to wait for him, and then I saw him coming across the park. I met him and I told him off. I had it all cut out. He had to have his chance, though he gave me none. I had two guns. One for him, one for me. I offered him the pick, and he snatched and fired at me while I had the other gun by the muzzle. He was sure trash. Then he put in another miss and I stretched him. That’s my tale, sir.”
“And it’s just as well you didn’t try it on a jury,” Reggie said.
Cranford started up. “Mr. Fortune, sir, I’m considerably in your debt. But if you call me a liar——”
“Oh, no, no.”
“D’you call me a coward, then? I would have it all out if Victor had come to trial.”
“You’ve run straight,” Reggie said.
“I sure have,” Cranford fumed.
“Do sit down, dear,” said Nurse Dauntsey in her nice, gentle voice.
On her Reggie turned. “And you knew all the time!” He shook his head at her.
“Yes, of course, Mr. Fortune.” She looked surprised.