The man looked at him quickly. "So you heard it," he said. "It was not pretty."
"No, it was not," replied Bennett.
The man led him down the dim passage into the back sitting-room. The body of a man lay on the sofa; it was curled like a dry leaf.
"That is my brother," said the man, with a little emphatic nod; "I have killed him. He was my enemy."
Bennett stared dully at the body, without believing it to be really there.
"Dead!" he said mechanically.
"And anything I say will be used against me in evidence! As if you could compress my hatred into one little lying notebook."
"I don't care a damn about your hatred," said Bennett, with heat. "An hour ago, perhaps, I might have arrested you; now I only find you uninteresting."
The man gave a long, low whistle of surprise.
"A philosopher in uniform," he said, "God! sir, you have my sympathy."