The shadows deepened at the word. There was utter and crushing conviction in the tones.
Mabel was the first to grasp the meaning, and a flush mounted to her face. “Do you suggest that my brother, after all you have heard, is a murderer?” she said in a passionate voice.
“No, not for a moment,” said Sinclair, “but before the morning comes he will be murdered, as his father was murdered, and by the same hand.”
“You mean?” said Allery, leaning forward.
“Exactly. Collins, the cleverest scoundrel we have had for a generation.”
“Mr. Collins,” said Mabel, and there was pain in the voice. “I will never believe that. You must be mad.”
Allery rose with a grim look on his face. “You have said too little or too much. We must know what you mean.”
The temporary numbness passed from Sinclair and he was the man of action.
“Yes, yes, of course, everything, but not now. We must act at once. You must trust to my word. I shall want all your help. First, have you a car, and a driver?”
His energy infected the others.