“No, I have not; no!”
Wilbur was furious; up and down the confined limits of the cell he paced, muttering to himself.
Smith, although very nervous, laughed at his visitor’s agitation.
The other saw him, and, standing in front of Tom, looked him in the face.
The broker shrank back from the maddened man.
“Once for all,” said Wilbur, and his voice was hoarse with passion, “am I to have the money?”
“No,” faintly ejaculated Smith. “It is mine—all mine.”
Wilbur sprang upon the prisoner, and the latter attempted to cry out for help, but the other’s clutch on his neck was too tight.
With a strength born of madness, the visitor raised Smith in his grasp, and dashed his head against the stone wall of the cell.
Leaving his victim upon the cot, and drawing the bedclothes over the body, Wilbur stepped unconcernedly out into the corridor.