“I’m going to put a rope round that man’s neck, and if the law won’t help me, by God, I’ll kill him myself.”
“Mais, mon ami, vous êtes fou,” cried Dr Porhoët, springing up.
Arthur put out his hand angrily, as though to keep him back. The frown on his face grew darker.
“You must leave me alone. Good Heavens, the time has gone by for tears and lamentation. After all I’ve gone through for months, I can’t weep because Margaret is dead. My heart is dried up. But I know that she didn’t die naturally, and I’ll never rest so long as that fellow lives.”
He stretched out his hands and with clenched jaws prayed that one day he might hold the man’s neck between them, and see his face turn livid and purple as he died.
“I am going to this fool of a doctor, and then I shall go to Skene.”
“You must let us come with you,” said Susie.
“You need not be frightened,” he answered. “I shall not take any steps of my own till I find the law is powerless.”
“I want to come with you all the same.”
“As you like.”