He was a man of about
fifty, with iron-grey hair, and a smooth-shaven face, ordinarily
ruddy with health. But now his face was livid, his cheeks lined and
shrunken, his eyes blood-shot and staring. He reeled rather than
walked into the room, one hand clutching at his throat, as though he
were choking.
"Get him a chair," said Grady, and Simmonds brought one forward and
remained standing beside it. "Now, my man," Grady continued, "you'll
have to brace up. What's the matter with you, anyhow? Didn't you ever
see a dead man before?"
"It ain't that," gasped Rogers. "It ain't that--though I never saw a
murdered man before."
"What?" demanded Grady, sharply. "Didn't you see that fellow this
afternoon?"
"That was different," Rogers moaned. "I didn't know him. Besides, I
thought he'd killed himself. We all thought so."
"And you don't think Vantine did?"
"I know he didn't," and Rogers's voice rose to a shrill scream. "It
was that woman done it! Damn her! She done it! I knowed she was up to
some crooked work when I let her in!"
CHAPTER VI
THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
It was coming now; the secret, however sordid, however ugly, was to
be unveiled.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66