"Certainly," she said. "That can be remedied."
"Oh, Lord, not immediately," groaned Alec, as we began to do so. "Let him tell us where in hell he's been for seventeen years. Let him relieve my mind."
I ended the second kiss with a splutter. "Good God! I can't ask you to marry me, dearest. I—come and sit down—I'm a murderer."
"You can't call it murder, son, to chop an inhuman monster," said Alec.
"But I'm wanted by every policeman in the Kingdom. You see, I'm the Manchester Slasher."
I don't know what reaction I expected of Marion ... the pale cheek, the indrawn gasp, the expression of loathing and fear ... as a matter of fact, she clapped her hands and laughed.
"You owe Geoff ten bob, Alec!" she cried.
"Huh?" said I.
"Geoff bet Alec ten shillings that you were the Mad Ghoul. He said—" she became serious—"he said that one just couldn't give a man the power to see such nightmares as you've been seeing, and expect him to keep a cool head and not strike at them. He said he had wild bursts of fury himself when he thought of them, and knew if he could see them, he'd start a reign of terror."