the loose, weak mouth, half-smiled at the vanity of the dangling monocle and pointed to the decanter.
"You did wrong to come," he said, "I have arranged your passage to Canada next week."
"I'll not go!" said the man, tossing down a drink and wiping his lips with a not over-clean handkerchief. "Curse me, van Heerden, why should I hide and fly like a—a"
"Like a man who escaped from Cayenne," suggested the doctor, "or like a man who is wanted by the police of three countries for crimes ranging from arson to wilful murder."
The man shuddered.
"All fair fights, my dear fellow," he said more mildly, "if I hadn't been a boastful, drunken sot, you wouldn't have heard of 'em—you wouldn't, curse you. I was mad! I had you in my hand like that!" He closed a not over-clean fist under van Heerden's nose. "I saw it all, all, I saw you bullying the poor devil, shaking some secret out of him, I saw you knife him"
"Hush!" hissed van Heerden. "You fool—people can hear through these walls."
"But there are no windows to see through," leered the man, "and I saw! He came out of his death-trance to denounce you, by Jove! I heard him shout and I saw you run in and lay him down—lay him down! Lay him out is better! You killed him to shut his mouth, my bonnie doctor!"
Van Heerden's face was as white as a sheet, but the hand he raised to his lips was without a tremor.
"You were lucky to find me that night, dear lad," the man went on. "I was in a mind to split on you."
"You have no cause to regret my finding you, Jackson," said the doctor. "I suppose you still call yourself by that name?"
"Yes, Jackson," said the other promptly. "Jack—son, son of Jack. Fine name, eh—good enough for me and good enough for anybody else. Yes, you found me and done me well. I wish you hadn't. How I wish you hadn't."
