“What is?”
“The murder.”
“The murder? Do you mean to say that you are speaking seriously and that you have come here to see me about a murder?”
“Yes. That’s the long and short of it.”
“Who is killed? Where was the crime committed? I hope, Mr. Danton, that this is not a specimen of one of the jokes you are so fond of perpetrating,” said Nick severely.
“Joke! gad! I wish it were a joke! No, Mr. Carter, it is very far from being a joke, I’m sorry to say. It’s a murder of the first water. A regular gem of the blue-stone variety. An out-and-out, dyed-in-the-wool, double-back-action, deliberate murder, carefully planned and scientifically executed, and”—he leaned forward in his chair and looked the detective straight in the eyes—“the joke will be on me, don’t you know.”
“What do you mean, Danton? You will have to be more explicit if you wish me to pretend to understand you.”
“Good Lord, I’m trying to be explicit. I mean that I will be accused of this murder—I mean that there will be developed the best chain of circumstantial evidence you ever heard of to convict me, and I mean that——”
He paused and rose from his chair, crossing the room to the window and then returning.
“Well?” said Nick. “What were you about to add to your statement?”