He had
released his captured father and brother, bowing his head before them.
He had confessed the murder of George Conway, over his own signature,
to save this father. The woman who was his accomplice, he seemed to
love more than his own life. Such were the extraordinary contrasts in a
character, which, at first sight, seemed entirely devilish; and I
reflected with absorbing interest upon the singular phenomenon.
I was aroused by the voice of Mohun. He had never appeared more calm:
in his deep tones I could discern no emotion whatever.
"That is a singular story," he said, "and your friend, Colonel Darke,
is a curious personage. But let us come back to events more recent--to
the visits of Swartz."
"Yes, sir," said Amanda, smiling.
"But, first, let me ask--did Colonel Darke recognize you?"
"You mean _know_ me? Oh, yes, sir."
"And did he speak of his former visit--with his wife?"
"No, sir."
"And you--?"
Amanda smiled.
"I made out I didn't remember him, sir; I was afraid he would think I
had overheard that talk with his wife."
"So he simply called as if to see you as a curiosity?"
"Yes, sir--and staid only a few minutes."
"But you know or rather knew poor Swartz better?"
"I knew him well, sir."
"He often stopped here?"
"Yes, sir.
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