Doctor Lindquist jerked round, thrusting his head toward Vance. He drew in a long rasping breath, and his whole frame became tense. Blood suffused his cheeks; and there was a twitching of the muscles about his mouth and throat. For a moment I was afraid he was going to lose his self-control. But after a moment’s effort he steadied himself.
“You think perhaps I threatened to strangle her?” His words were vibrant with the intensity of his passionate anger. “And you would like to turn my threat into a noose to hang me?—Paugh!” He paused, and when he spoke again his voice had become calmer. “It is quite true I once inadvisedly attempted to frighten Miss Odell with a threat to kill her and to commit suicide. But if your information is as accurate as you would have me believe, you are aware that I threatened her with a revolver. It is the weapon, I believe, that is conventionally mentioned when making empty threats. I certainly would not have threatened her with thuggee, even had I contemplated so abominable an act.”
“True,” nodded Vance. “And it’s a rather good point, don’t y’ know.”
The doctor was evidently encouraged by Vance’s attitude. He again faced Markham and elaborated his confession.
“A threat, I presume you know, is rarely the forerunner of a violent deed. Even a brief study of the human mind would teach you that a threat is prima facie evidence of one’s innocence. A threat, generally, is made in anger, and acts as its own safety-valve.” He shifted his eyes. “I am not a married man; my emotional life has not been stabilized, as it were; and I am constantly coming in close contact with hypersensitive and overwrought people. During a period of abnormal susceptibility I conceived an infatuation for the young woman, an infatuation which she did not reciprocate—certainly not with an ardor commensurate with my own. I suffered deeply; and she made no effort to mitigate my sufferings. Indeed, I suspected her, more than once, of deliberately and perversely torturing me with other men. At any rate, she took no pains to hide her infidelities from me. I confess that once or twice I was almost distracted. And it was in the hope of frightening her into a more amenable and considerate attitude that I threatened her.—I trust that you are a sufficiently discerning judge of human nature to believe me.”
“Leaving that point for a moment,” answered Markham non-committally, “will you give me more specific information as to your whereabouts Monday night?”
Again I noted a yellow tinge creep over the man’s features, and his body stiffened perceptibly. But when he spoke it was with his habitual suavity.
“I considered that my note to you covered that question satisfactorily. What did I omit?”
“What was the name of the patient on whom you were calling that night?”
“Mrs. Anna Breedon. She is the widow of the late Amos H. Breedon of the Breedon National Bank of Long Branch.”