“I am determined to give you up to the police,” Tristram answered. “Remember, I am suspected, and I now intend to clear myself.”
“And risk arrest for the conspiracy.”
“There’s no proof that I was ever associated with you,” the Captain answered. “The word of a murderer isn’t worth much.”
“You are prepared for the revelations that I can make?”
“I’m prepared for anything so long as you meet with your deserts,” the Captain responded.
For an instant the wretched man, his sallow face haunted by a look of unutterable dread, glanced from one to the other. Then, convinced that all were determined, and realising that escape was now utterly impossible, he stepped forward, and, snatching up from the table the antique ring set with the turquoise and diamonds, with a quick movement slipped it upon the little finger of his left hand. They watched him in wonder.
“You think to have a magnificent revenge,” he cried, glaring wildly at them. “But I will cheat you yet. Watch!” And with the thumb and finger of his right hand he pressed the large turquoise.
From beneath the ring there escaped a dark-red bead of blood.
“Go!” he shrieked hoarsely, his face haggard, deathlike. “Go, call the police! Denounce me, do your worst, but you will only take my lifeless body. May it be of service to you. This you intended should be a fine coup of vengeance. But I’ll cheat you yet! I’ll cheat you—I—”
“Ring, and call in the police,” Armytage suggested.