“That’s just what I did.”
Opal sat silent for a moment longer, and then she sprang up with a sharp cry.
“If he lives he will try to get even. We must silence this man. It must be done at once.”
“Granted. You were a fool to decoy him to the old house.”
“I knew of no other place,” was the reply. “I took the first plan that entered my head. I never dreamed of failure.”
“There, don’t think I’m finding fault, sis. You did the best you could; I’m sure of that. The only wonder is that you didn’t make a sure shot after what you’ve done at the galleries.”
Half an hour after the interview with his sister Claude Lamont occupied the armchair in the room in which he once showed himself to Carter and Bristol Clara, the latter his near neighbor.
This time he was alone.
Presently he was startled by a rap on the front door, as if some one outside had no use for a bell, and in a moment he had opened it.
He found a well-dressed, dark-faced stranger on the step—a man with a brownish beard and clear, gray eyes.