"You are not," said Billy, evenly. "It's a damnable lie."
"I don't understand," remarked the doctor. "Will somebody kindly explain?"
It was Iris Sala who answered, and as she spoke the feeling that he was dreaming grew stronger in Billy Merton.
"We were having a séance, Doctor," she began, in her deep rich voice, "trying to get a tangible materialization. The room, of course, was in pitch-darkness, and after it was over and the lights were turned up we found that Mrs. Harker was—dead!"
Her voice faltered, and Harker lifted a grief-stricken face from beside his wife's chair.
"But what happened during the séance?" asked the doctor.
"We heard something moving about. A thing that bumped and slithered over the carpet."
"Pshaw!" snapped the doctor. "What I don't understand is why this gentleman should be accused of it."
"Because," cried Harker, getting up, "he's in desperate want of money. Look at this!" He fumbled in his pocket, and to Billy's amazement produced the cheque for four thousand he had written at the Ultima Thule. "I took this cheque to-night in exchange for one of my own—because I liked the look of you. Yes—you wicked villain—I liked the look of you; and I meant to do something for you. I brought him here, never dreaming—never thinking——" His voice broke again. "He saw my wife's pearls: was actually talking about them just before the séance started—and then when the light went out he must have snatched them off her neck. And in doing so you killed her. And to think I actually heard you doing the vile deed!"
"You deny this?" asked the doctor.