“No! Enough, Levi!” cried his master hoarsely, staring straight before him. “Do not recall that to me, especially at this moment. It was the great tragedy of my life, until—until this present one which—which threatens to end it.”
“But you are going to face the music. You have said!”
“I may—and I may not.”
Levi was silent again. Only the low ticking of the dock broke the quiet, and was followed by the rumble of a motor-’bus and the consequent tremor in the room.
“At any rate, Samuel Statham will never act the coward,” the millionaire remarked at last, in a soft but distinct voice.
“Rolfe can help you. Where is he—away just at the moment that he’s wanted,” Levi said.
“My fault! My fault, Levi!” his master declared. “I disbelieved him, and sent him out to Servia to show him that I did not credit what he told me.”
“You were a fool!” said Levi, bluntly. He never minced words when his master spoke confidentially.
“I know I was. I have already admitted it,” exclaimed the financier. “But what puzzles me is that that man outside is really alive and in the flesh. I never dreamed that he would return to face me. He was dead—I could have sworn it.”
“So you saw him dead—eh?”