voice not meant to carry beyond Newman's ears--he was taunting Newman.

"Well, why don't you call upon God to help you?" says he. "He has
helped you a lot in the past, hasn't he, Roy? And He has helped her a
lot, hasn't he? Helped her to stand me. Oh, that's a joke! The just
and merciful One--d'you remember how old Baintree used to rant? You
approved, didn't you. You agreed with old Baintree. So did I, Roy, to
his face.

"But you--why you were a damned Puritan, Roy. You wouldn't do this,
you wouldn't do that, you would be clean of vice--your very words,
Roy!--and you would be honest and just with men. That's the sort of
thing that paid, says you.

"And didn't it pay you, though! Ho, ho; it's too rich, Roy! You would
make yourself as good a man as old Baintree; you would make yourself
worthy of his daughter. Remember telling me that? And didn't you,
though--with my help! My help, Roy--not God's! It was Black Angus and
the Devil did it!

"Well, well, I thought I would surprise you with my little tale of how
I used the Twigg girl to spoil your chance with Mary. But Beasley
surprised you instead. Didn't he, now? A neat trick, eh, Roy? You
never guessed?

"You never guessed, either, all that I had planned for you that time.
If you hadn't been in such a hurry to leave town! But then--I was just
as well pleased. With Beulah out of the way as well as you--it was
plain sailing with Mary, Roy.

"No, I never wanted Mary. Not for herself. She's not my kind, Roy; a
damned, sniveling saint isn't my idea of a woman. But I wanted her
money. Old Baintree's money. And I got it.

"I got Baintree, too. It was necessary; I had to kill the old fool.
He knew too much about me, and if he told Mary--well, I was playing the
saint with her, just then. He would never have consented to her
marrying me; and also--the money, you know. So I eliminated him, Roy.
And God let you suffer for what I did! Ho, ho, that's rich, isn't it?
Come to think of it, it's sound theology--vicarious atonement, eh? You
got stripes, and I got Mary--and her money, which I have spent most
pleasurably.

"But you were always a fool, Roy--a stupid, trusting fool. You trusted
me, didn't you? I was your bosom friend, your boyhood chum, whose wild
ways grieved you. Fool, fool, if you had possessed the wit of a
jackass you would have known I hated you! Hate, hate, hate! I have
hated you all my life, Roy! I hated you when we were boys