“Be as direct as you can. Have no compunctions.”
“You seemed very strange with all this love of yours for men and your play, as you finally termed it, and, my friend, for a long time I had grave doubts as to what you really were: an extraordinary fool or just a scoundrel, like myself. You see, such extraordinary asses appear so seldom that even I had my doubts. You are not angry?”
“Oh, not at all.”
“You forced money upon me and I thought: a trap! However you made your moves quickly and certain precautions on my part....”
“Pardon me for interrupting. So, those books of yours, your solitary contemplation of life, that little white house and everything was all a lie? And murder—do you remember all that drivel about hands steeped in blood?”
“Yes, I did kill. That is true. And I have pondered much upon life, while awaiting you, but the rest, of course, was falsehood. Very base falsehood, but you were so credulous....”
“And...Maria?”
I confess that I had hardly uttered this name when I felt something clutching at my throat. Magnus looked at me sharply and said gloomily:
“We will discuss Maria, too. But how excited you are! Even your nails have turned blue. Perhaps you’ll have some wine? Well, never mind. Have patience. I shall continue. When you began your affair with Maria...of course with my slight assistance...I finally concluded that you were....”