“Van Ramm knows too many of my secrets. I want him killed. Will you do it?”
I was thunderstruck at the proposal. I looked at him to see if he was in earnest. His face was set and rigid, full of heavy lines, and the corners of his mouth were drawn down in an evil fashion. My ears had certainly made no mistake. He was in earnest. It was a long moment before I found my voice.
“Must everyone who knows your secrets die?”
“God damn you, no!”
This was no ribald oath, but uttered from the very depths of his soul. I knew as well as I knew my name that I had alluded unknowingly to some secret of his, perhaps the very one for which he sought the life of his henchman, for a sudden gust of terror seemed to leap into his face at my words. He gazed at me for a moment speechless, his jaw dropped and there was a gurgling rattle in his throat. Then the mood seemed to pass slowly, and he became himself again.
“Do not say that word again, Vincent. It cuts me like a knife. There are sins upon my soul you cannot know. My God, if I were only what I used to be. But that day is long, long passed. Sometimes I think that I am possessed by a devil. I have gone wrong so long that I cannot stop now if I would. I have resolved against it, but I have no power. I can see my ruin close before my eyes. Do you think there is no terror in it? My God! Yet I cannot haste enough to meet it. It is like the dizziness that takes you on a cliff. I cannot keep back my mad desire to leap. You are my man. Answer me yes or no. Will you kill the dwarf?”
“No.”
“Then let it be. I respect you all the more for it. I wish I had had men like you about me from the first. Then I should not see the gallows in my dreams. But I have done my wicked work myself before. Let this pass.”
There were drops of sweat upon his forehead as he galloped ahead. But in a short time he had thrown off all trace of this behavior, and what was in his mind then seemed to be quite forgotten now. His merry tales returned. A beggar we met was well rewarded for his humble plea for alms. So we continued, just as if nothing had happened, as if we had not for a moment been at swords points, almost ready to fight over a question of honor. And in this way we rode till we came into the hills that sheltered the cottage of Meg.
“Poor old Meg,” said the patroon gently. “She has been ill since yonder night of Ronald’s death. I must stop and see her.”