p whether or not I should murder you
and your white-faced mother. I should have done so, but thought you
might hold some knowledge of the secret after your meeting with
Railton, so that it seemed better to bide my time."

"If it be any satisfaction to you," I interrupted, "to know that had
you killed me then you would never have laid hands on that clasp
yonder, you are welcome to it."

"It is," he answered. "I am glad I did not kill you both: it left
your mother time to see her dead husband, and has given me the
pleasure of killing you now: the treat improves with keeping.
Well, let me go on. After that I was forced to leave the country for
some time--"

"For another piece of villainy, which your wife discovered."

"How do you know that? Oh, from Claire, I suppose: however, it does
not matter. When I came back I found you: found you, and struck
again. But again my cursed luck stood in my way and that damned
friend of yours knocked me senseless. Look at this mark on my
cheek."

"Look at the clasp and you will see where your blow was struck."

"Ah, that was it, was it?" he said, examining the clasp slowly.
"I suppose you thought it lucky at the time. So it was--for me.
For, though I made another mistake in the fog that night, I got quits
with your friend at any rate. I have chafed often enough at these
failures, but it has all come right in the end. I ought to have
killed your father upon Adam's Peak; but he was a big man, while I
had no pistol and could not afford to risk a mistake. Everything,
they say, comes to the man who can wait. Your father did not escape,
neither will you, and when I think of the joy it was to me to know
that you and Claire, of all people--"

But I would hear no more. Mad as I was with shame and horror for my
grandfather's cruelty, I knew this man, notwithstanding his talk of
revenge, to be a vile and treacherous scoundrel. So when he spoke of
Claire I burst forth--

"Dog, this is enough! I have listened to your tale. But when you
talk of Claire--Claire whom you killed to-night--then, dog, I spit
upon you; kill me, and I hope the treasure may curse you as it has
cursed me; kill me; use your knife, for I _will_ shout--"

With a dreadful snarl he was on me and smote me across the face.
Then as I continued to call and shout, struck me one fearful blow
behind the ear. I remember that the dim lamp shot out a streak of
blood-red flame, the cabin was lit for one brief instant