after that I was approached by a cockney named John Edge, who described to me a plan by which we could defraud the company. When I refused to take part in it, Edge told me he knew who I was, and threatened to expose me. That Venezuela had no extradition treaty with France would not save me, Edge said, since Labaud's body had been cast ashore, undecomposed enough to show what had happened to him, and I could not prove that I had not killed him in Venezuelan waters to keep from starving.
I still refused to take part in Edge's plan and made up my mind to go away. But before I could start, Edge killed Howart and robbed the company safe. He urged me to flee with him, arguing that I could not face the sort of investigation the police would make. That was true, and so I agreed. Two months later, in Mexico City, it became apparent to me why Edge had asked me to accompany him. He had a firm hold on me and expected to use me in crimes that were beyond his abilities. I was determined, no matter what happened, no matter what became necessary, I would never go back to Devil's Island, or to any prison, but neither did I intend becoming a professional criminal. I attempted to desert Edge, he found me, and we fought. I killed him, but it was in self-defense. He struck me first.
In 1920 I came to the United States, to San Francisco, changed my name once more, to Edgar Leggett, and began making a new career for myself, developing some experiments I had made with colors when I was a young artist. In 1923, believing that Edgar Leggett could never now be connected with Maurice de Mayenne, I sent for Alice and Gabrielle, who were then living in New York, and Alice and I were married.
But the past was not dead. Alice, not hearing from me after my escape, not knowing what had happened to me, employed a private detective to find me―a Louis Upton. He sent a man named Harry Ruppert to South America. Ruppert succeeded in tracing me step by step from my landing in the Golfo Trieste up to, but no farther than, my departure from Mexico City. In doing this he of course learned of the deaths of Labaud, Howart and Edge―three deaths of which I was innocent, but of which I most certainly should be convicted if tried.
I do not know how Upton found me here. Possibly he traced Alice and Gabrielle to me. Late last Saturday night he called on me and demanded money. Having no money available at the time, I put him off until Tuesday, when I gave him the diamonds as part payment of his demands. But I was desperate, and I knew what being at Upton's mercy would mean, so I determined to kill him. I decided to pretend a burglar had taken the diamonds, notifying the police. Upton, I was sure, would immediately communicate with me then, and I would make an appointment with him and shoot him down in cold blood. The diamonds would be found in his possession. It would not be difficult for me to fix up a story that would make me seem justified in killing this man whom the police would suppose was the burglar.
But Harry Ruppert―hunting for Upton, with a grudge against him―saved me that killing, himself shooting Upton. Ruppert, the man who had traced me through Venezuela and Mexico for Upton, had also―either by following Upton here or making Upton talk before killing him―learned my identity. With the police after him for Upton's murder, he came here, demanding that I shelter him from them, returning the incriminating diamonds to me, and demanding money in their stead.
I killed him. His body is in the cellar. Out front, a detective is