“He was killed!” suddenly thundered Nick. “He was struck down by a champagne bottle. There are witnesses to prove it. I have one of them in this room——”
“Now, Carter!” interrupted Captain Brown, jumping to his feet. “You have kept that quiet all these years. Why should——”
“I’ll tell you why, Captain Brown,” broke in the detective. “There is an effort on the part of Thomas Jarvis to rob the owner of this property of his rights, and I am obliged to say what I do, in the interests of justice.”
“Justice?”
It was Louden Powers and Andrew Lampton who uttered this word in unison in an apprehensive tone. There seemed to be something about it that grated on their sensibilities.
Thomas Jarvis was sitting stiff in his chair, his eyes fixed upon Nick Carter’s face, while he tried to mumble some protest.
“I intended to keep this a secret to the end, because I have always felt that the slayer of Richard Jarvis had great provocation, and doubtless was carried away by the excitement of the moment to do a deed that he has been remorseful for ever since.”
“Didn’t it come out at the time?” asked Bonesy Billings. “Murders don’t often get away from the police in these days.”
“You’re right, Billings. I don’t suppose this would have been hushed up if a person who—who has some influence had not prevented all the facts becoming known.”