“She was lonely and afraid; so was I, Keith.”
“Where is this place?”
“Forty-two, Borrow Street, Soho.”
“And the archway?”
“Corner of Glove Lane.”
“Good God! Why—I saw it in the paper!”
And seizing the journal that lay on his bureau, Keith read again that paragraph: “The body of a man was found this morning under an archway in Glove Lane, Soho. From marks about the throat grave suspicions of foul play are entertained. The body had apparently been robbed, and nothing was discovered leading to identification.”
It was real earnest, then. Murder! His own brother! He faced round and said:
“You saw this in the paper, and dreamed it. Understand—you dreamed it!”
The wistful answer came: