"Yes!" said he, glancing down unmoved at Amherst's body. "He is dead—damn him! I'm glad I killed him! The beast!—— Thank God! I came in time, dear," he exclaimed, turning to Stephanie.
But Stephanie had fainted.
Lorraine sprang toward her—to be brought up by Pendleton's quick command:
"Let her alone for a moment—she has only fainted—and tell me how this happened."
Lorraine, suddenly weak, collapsed on a chair.
"Never mind—I'll get some brandy——"
"No—I'm all right," Lorraine said huskily.—"It is well for you to hear before she wakes.—I was restless after dinner. I didn't wait for Cameron; I went for a walk, leaving word for him to remain until I returned. I don't know how long I walked, but presently I was aware that I was before Stephanie's home.—The lights were burning—the shades were drawn. I went in on the piazza, with no purpose, nothing but a desire to see her—you understand? As I passed this window, I noticed the door to the enclosed piazza was ajar.—I pushed it open and entered. I heard a queer sound in this room, like persons in a struggle. I dashed across—and saw—saw Stephanie flung upon that couch, and Amherst bending over her. For an instant I was paralyzed! I saw Stephanie try to force him back; heard him laugh in triumph and say something. Then action came to me and I hurled myself upon him. We fought all over the room—you can see how we fought—he to get loose, I to get a grip on his throat and choke the life out of him. I must have had the strength of a demon, for Amherst, I think, is the stronger man. How often we fell, I do not know—sometimes he was under, sometimes I was. And all the while, 'Kill him! Kill him!' was ringing in my ears.... We went down again, I on top.—My hand touched the candlestick—I grasped it and struck.—I would be striking him yet if you had not stopped me." He got up slowly, his face unnaturally flushed.—"I'll go to the police station and give myself up. Let the carrion lie where he is until the officers come. You look to Stephanie—it's better——"
He staggered, put his hands to his head, swayed a moment, then pitched forward to the floor, and lay quiet.
"Good God!" cried Pendleton.
Springing to Lorraine's side, he tore open his waistcoat and placed a hand over his heart—no beat responded. He listened!—It was silent.