“Fancy, and you little thought then that you would never see him again alive,” said Collins musingly.
The other was silent.
“Do you know,” continued Collins, “you mentioned the Middle Ages. How much easier detection was then. All you did was to parade suspects in front of the departed, and when the right man arrived blood gushed out from his mouth, and you spotted a winner every time.”
“What a horribly morbid mind you must have,” said Sanders with a shudder.
“I am glad I am not mixed up with crime.”
“I have not any great sense of horror of crime, murder least of all. There are so many reasons for that,” and he looked straight at the other man.
“Miss Watson will be down soon. I hope it has not upset her too much. You are an old friend. Wouldn’t you like to go up and see.”
“No, thanks. I would rather not. But I will knock at the door.”
He went up the stairs, and Collins followed him with his eyes.
“I wonder if that blood would gush out,” he said to himself.