His face was ghastly and his lips trembled before he spoke.
"Frank," says he, "it was I who stole Edith's pearls."
"I know it," I answered.
His eyes got wild. "What?" he cried. "How—how—does anybody else know it? How did you find out?"
"Lie down," said I, "and keep quiet. I'll give you the whole yarn."
John sank back against his pillows with a groan. I started in with the story, telling him everything except the names of Léontine and Ivan. Before I had finished, John's face changed for the better. The dull look had gone out of his eyes and they had grown hard and bright. There was a tinge of colour in his cheeks and his jaw was set. When I had finished he reached out one hand and gave me a grip that hurt.
"My word!" he muttered, "what a man you are," and added a lot of truck unnecessary to repeat. For several minutes he lay there, soaking in what I had told him. Then says he:
"You must get out of the country right off, Frank. Your life is in danger every minute here."
"I'm leaving this evening," said I, for I had decided not to tell him about my plan for stalking Chu-Chu. If anything were to go wrong he would always look upon himself as my murderer. "You must clear out for awhile yourself, John. We look too much alike for your safety."
"No," says he, "I'll stop here"; and his jaw stiffened again.
