"I might have thought it," he said. "I ought to have known what a scoundrel you were. I have seen how you treated those two poor creatures after you had killed them. What made you put out their eyes?" he asked passionately.
"Put out their eyes!" cried the accused. "That's not true. Someone else must have done that. When I left them——"
He broke off, bit his lips, and staggered, pale as death, to the wall of the cell.
"Thanks," said Sven Elversson drily. "I knew how I could get you, if need should be. But I waited, as long as there was a chance, to make it easier for you."
Next moment the murderer lay on his knees before him.
"I didn't say it; I didn't say anything," he cried. "I didn't say it—it doesn't count—you tricked me!"
The man was suddenly transformed to a miserable, grovelling heap of penitence and despair. All his armour of conceit and self-deception, all his subterfuges and excuses, had been torn from him now.
"There are witnesses here, as I told you before," said Sven Elversson. "I warned you."
"I'll write it again—give me a new paper and I'll confess. I'll tell you all, I'll do all you ask, for the sake of the girl."
Sven Elversson raised his voice a little.