"Listen," cried the master-criminal to his companions, his face now white as paper. "Hark what that little chit of a girl has been saying! Was I not right to strike her down?"
"Quite," admitted his two companions.
"And now you will pay the penalty, my dear sir," I declared. "I intend that you shall."
"Put that revolver down," Gregory commanded. "Let us talk. You are clever, Mr. Vidal, and I—well, I confess you have the whip hand of us."
His companions looked at each other, dismayed at these words of the Master. He had actually admitted defeat!
For a few seconds I did not reply. I was reflecting, and it struck me that this pretence of being vanquished might only be a ruse. Gregory was far too clever and defiant a criminal to be beaten single-handed by the man he so sincerely hated and feared.
"No," I replied with a grim smile. "It is war between us, Mr. Gregory—not peace. Therefore, I shall hold my revolver here until my friends arrive. They will not be long, and I shall not suffer from fatigue, I assure you."
Gregory, quick-witted and shrewd, cast a rapid glance around as he stood before me, a smart figure in his well-cut evening clothes, with a fine diamond glistening in his pleated shirt-front.
"Well," he exclaimed after a brief pause, "if you deliberately take on the duties of the police, and pry into affairs which do not concern you, then you must take the consequences."
"For that very reason I have entered here," I said, "to become witness of your dastardly crime. You have killed that girl—killed her because you feared she would betray you."