I cannot tell you what my emotions were--I do not
know. I only know that I kept repeating to myself, 'they are going to
kill me, they are going to kill me!' and that it seemed I must try and
find out everything, everything I could."
She turned away from the table, and began to pace nervously up and down
the miserable room.
Jimmie Dale rose impulsively from his chair--but she waved him back
again.
"No; wait!" she said. "Let me finish. I crept into the library. It took
me a long time, because I had to be so careful not to make the slightest
noise. I suppose it was fully six or seven minutes from the time I
had first heard my supposed uncle's voice until I had crept far enough
forward to be able to see into the room beyond. There were three men
there. The man I knew as my uncle was sitting at one end of the
table; another had his back toward me; and Travers was facing in my
direction--and I think I never saw so ghastly a face as was Hilton
Travers' then. He was standing up, sort of swaying, as he leaned with
both hands on the table.
"'Now then, Travers,' the man whose back was turned to me was saying
threateningly, 'you've got the story now--sign those papers!'
"It seemed as though Travers could not speak for a moment. He kept
looking wildly from one to the other. He was white to the lips.
"'You've let me in for--THIS!' he said hoarsely, at last, 'You
devils--you devils--you devils! You've let me in for--murder! Both of
them! Both Peter and his brother--MURDERED!'"
She stopped abruptly before Jimmie Dale, and clutched his arm tightly.
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