“That’ll be yesterday, or rather last night. Let’s have it, inspector!”
“Well.—‘I have failed! This morning, alive and unharmed, McCarty came to the Mall! I cannot hurt him, I am powerless against him, he is the Law! But, for the man himself, I have underrated him; he is more shrewd and clever than I thought. To-day he came to me and in Sir Philip’s presence, with infinite tact, he let me know that he is aware it was I who made that attempt upon his life. Seemingly he holds no grudge; it is apparently a mere part of the game. He claims to have detected the odor of cigar smoke which I left behind me in his rooms, just as his associate smelled the smoke of that little blaze generated from the physostigmine. He gave me to understand, also, that he knew of my trick with the chloroform, and he lied most unnecessarily about minor details, with the full knowledge that I was aware of the truth. To-night he appeared again with utterly trivial questions and it is all too evident now that he is indeed studying me, making up his mind.
“‘I have a peculiar, indescribable feeling, almost a conviction, that he will win out in this contest between us! If he does, I shall know what to do; from this hour I shall be prepared. I am the last of my line and for such a line there can be but one end,—annihilation! I am possessed with an odd desire that he should read these pages and if he wins I shall arrange to have them pass into his hands. It grows late and I am tired. I wonder what to-morrow will bring?’—That is all, Mac. That is the last word!”
“Well, he knows now!” McCarty drew a deep breath. “I’m glad that’s over! It’s going to take me all my time to forget these last ten days, I can tell you!”
“There’s more than one thing that’s not clear to me yet,” Dennis remarked reflectively. “For instance, Mac, you said Hughes had been took sick sudden. I heard nothing about it.”
“You did, Denny, the same as me, only you didn’t get it. All the other servants told of how greedy he was starting in with his dinner, and how all of a sudden he didn’t want any more, not even the things he was most partial to; ’twas the Calabar bean first working in him, making him sick. He got out into the air and walked like he’d been told, poor devil, till he dropped in his tracks! But he knew the truth in the end! Do you mind the horror I saw in his face and how hard he tried to speak and tell me?”
“But what really made you suspect the truth, Mac?” the inspector asked. “Was it the toy balloon?”
“Partly. Then again, when Ching Lee called us into the conservatory with Lucette lying there dead, it seemed to me that Orbit was a trifle too calm and collected, for all his fine-spoken words. He had his story down too pat and he didn’t talk in short, jerky sentences, like a man does when he’s almost beside himself; every word was said for effect, as if he was acting a part. He forgot it too quick, too. Even yesterday, when Sir Philip was talking about Lucette’s death, he was more amused with the way the Britisher was trying to express himself, than sorrowful over the murder, and the girl not two days cold!
“After I left him I went to a little joint to get a bite and whilst I waited I was feeling pretty rotten because I couldn’t see my way clear like in the old days. It came over me that I’d been getting rusty since I was out of the game and I kind of wished I was back again, though I remember well what a dog’s life it was in some ways. That is just the phrase that come in my mind, ‘a dog’s life’—and then I thought of Max!
“He was forever hovering around that coal chute as if there was something down there he wanted—then I remembered the coal getting put in, and the lad missing right at that hour, and the whole thing broke over me!”