“I’ll tell him myself,” said the other. “You’re really rather a wonder, Gethryn! We ought to have you as a sort of super-superintendent. Or you might do well on the stage. At one time just now you almost took me in with that grisly tale and manner of yours. And what a yarn it was, too. Just enough to make that half-crazy devil think he’d killed the wrong man. Enough, I mean, to make him wonder whether you hadn’t got half the tale right and had only gone astray about who actually did the bashing.” Lucas chuckled reminiscently. “I say,” he added, “it was a good thing nobody heard us getting in here through the window. It would’ve spoilt the whole thing. The storm effect helped everything along nicely, though, didn’t it?”
“It did,” Anthony said. “I didn’t arrange that, you know.”
Mr. Lucas smiled. “No, I suppose not; though I’m so full at the moment of wonder and admiration for the great Colonel Gethryn that if any one told me you had, I don’t know that I should disbelieve ’em.” He turned to look at the prisoner. “God!” he exclaimed. “Look at that!”
For Sir Arthur was sitting quietly at the feet of the plain-clothes man. And he was playing a little game with his manacled hands, tracing with both forefingers the intricate pattern of the carpet. Every now and again he would look up at his guard and laugh. It was not a pleasant sound, being childish and yet somehow evil.
Anthony looked, then turned away with a shiver. Lucas dropped a hand on his shoulder.
“Never mind, Gethryn,” he said, after a moment. “It isn’t your fault.”
Anthony shook off the hand. “Damn it, I know that! Only the whole thing is so filthy. It might be said, I know, that I sent That mad. But it wouldn’t be true. He did that himself. Hatred, ingrowing hatred of a better man: that’s the cause.”
Lucas was thoughtful. “It complicates things, this madness.”
“It does. What’ll happen?”
“Usual, I suppose. The case’ll be tried. He’ll be convicted—and sent to Broadmoor, where he’ll die, or recover in a year and be let out to kill some one else. We’re so humane, you know!” Lucas was bitter. “Anyhow, you won’t be bothered any more, except for the trial, at which you’ll figure prominently. Oh, yes! Great glory will be yours, Gethryn. Think what a press you’ll have!”