‘Good news,’ said Leopold cheerily.
‘Thank God,’ murmured Laura, sinking back in her chair.
‘We have found the murderer.’
‘Found him,’ cried Treverton; ‘how, and where?’
‘When I say found, I go rather too far,’ said Leopold, ‘but we know who he is. It’s the man I suspected from the beginning—your second-floor lodger, Desrolles.’
Laura gave a cry of horror.
‘You need not pity him, Mrs. Treverton,’ said Mr. Leopold.
‘He’s a thorough-paced scoundrel. I happen to be acquainted with circumstances that throw a light upon his motive for the murder. He is quite unworthy of your compassion. I doubt if hanging—in the gentlemanly way in which it’s done now—is bad enough for him. He ought to have lived in a less refined age, when he would have had his last moments enlivened by the yells and profanity of the populace.’
‘How do you know that Desrolles was the murderer?’ asked John Treverton.
Mr. Leopold told his client the gist of Mrs. Evitt’s statement.