In about a quarter of an hour I
received him in the library.
He sank softly into the chair towards which I had pointed. For a moment
he sat and blinked at me behind his gold-rimmed spectacles.
"So our friend," he murmured, "has passed away! It is very sad--very sad
indeed."
I leaned back in my chair and regarded him steadfastly.
"Mr. Stanley," I said, "you did not come here to express your sympathy
with the man whom you have done your best, if not to kill, at least to
frighten to death. Ask me all the questions you want to--say anything you
think necessary. Only finish it up. When you leave this room, let me feel
that circumstances will not require any further meeting between us."
My words seemed to afford Mr. Stanley matter for thought. His brows were
slightly puckered. I knew that from behind his glasses I was being
subjected to a very keen examination.
"I only trust, Mr. Courage,"' he said softly, "that the wish you have
expressed may become a possibility. I myself have always regretted your
intervention in this affair.
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