“Why didn’t I really kill that man?” he exclaimed. “He is bound to be my evil genius, after all. I can’t see my way clear to ultimate success with him in the way. He’ll blackmail me, and what can I do? If he were really dead——”
He did not finish the sentence, but broke it off suddenly, and arose, throwing his cigar away.
“I’ll go home,” he said.
A few minutes later he was met at the door of his home by his sister Opal, whose face told him that she had something of importance to say.
“Father is gone,” said the girl, with a gasp, and would have fallen if Claude had not caught her around the waist.
“Gone?” echoed the young sport.
“It is true. You can see for yourself.”
Opal led the way to the library, and mutely pointed at her father’s chair.
“When did you miss him?” asked Claude.
“An hour ago.”