“Once,” said she to Packard in a low voice, “you saw my husband kill a man.”
Packard started. Then he laughed.
“So he has told you?” said he.
“Is it true?”
“As sure as he’s lying there drunk in the house, now, it is true.”
Kineia pondered for a moment.
“What brought you here across the sea to this island to tell me that?” said she mournfully.
“Luck,” said Packard.
“No,” said Kineia with a sudden laugh. “Death!” And she plunged the knife in his throat, the knife that had saved her father, in the hand of Nalia.
He did not die immediately and she waited to make sure, absolutely sure, and as she waited she wept for the man she loved lying there in the house in the grasp of gin. Then when all was over she came back, running like a mother to her child.