"Never."
There was a pause, broken only by the rustling of Aronson's papers in the outer room. Then Shagarach spoke.
"You have an appointment with Harry Arnold for next Wednesday evening."
Kennedy started up. His smooth face grew cadaverous and the helpless look of a kneeling suppliant came into his eyes, which were riveted on the great, wide orbs of his tormentor.
"At a gambling resort," continued Shagarach.
"I am not a gambler," Kennedy's voice was hollow, his expression piteous. Shagarach studied him a moment. Probably he was speaking the truth. The evil passions are jealous and absolute monarchs. Seldom does more than one of them reign at a time.
"But Harry Arnold is."
"Harry is plunging heavily."
Shagarach was satisfied at last. An adequate motive for Harry's deed was clearly in view. It was not the most heinous crime which had been committed to gratify the gamester's passion.
"I wish to be with you on that occasion."