“I reckon I’m going to show my friend Carter that his luck has changed, so far as I am concerned,” he muttered. “If those men of his hadn’t turned up at that café last night, I’d have put him in such a condition that he would not have troubled me for a while, anyhow. I’m sorry my knife missed him.”
There was a demoniacal snarl on the scoundrel’s lips. He was truly sorry that he had not been able to commit a foul murder when he aimed that stroke at the detective. As for compunction, that was a sentiment that never troubled him.
“Well, my face is all right! Now for the clothes.”
His tone was businesslike. He might have been engaged in an entirely legitimate task, so far as that was concerned.
“I’ll have to hurry,” he went on. “There is always the off chance of somebody trying to get into this room. Even if I didn’t open the door—which I certainly would not do—that very fact might stir up suspicion. One never knows.”
He bent over the supine figure of Jabez Portersham, huddled in the chair, and, deftly as a well-trained valet, took off the acting governor’s outer garments, leaving him in his underclothing.
Deliberately, but without any waste of time, he put the suit of clothes on himself, finishing off with the collar and necktie, and wearing the watch and fob that was part of Portersham’s ordinary costume.
“By Jove!” he chuckled, as he surveyed himself in the large mirror. “I am Jabez Portersham to the life. I don’t think I’ve overlooked anything. Oh, yes! Here’s something.”
On the little finger of the unconscious man’s left hand was a large diamond solitaire ring.
Rayne slipped it off and put it on his own little finger. It was loose for him, but he decided that it would stay on, and that no one would notice its being a little large.