my claim to the letters and I asked him for them. He too refused! Do you remember, by the by, what happened to your brother?"
Sydney Barnes did not answer, but his cheeks were like chalk. His mouth was a little open, disclosing his yellow teeth. He stared at the Colonel with frightened, fascinated eyes.
"I can see," the Colonel continued, "that you remember. Young man," he added, with a curious alteration in his tone, "be wiser than your brother! Give me the packet."
"You killed him," the young man gasped. "It was you who killed Morris."
The Colonel nodded gravely.
"He had his chance," he said, "even as you have it."
There was a dead silence. The Colonel was waiting. Sydney Barnes was breathing hard. He was alone, then, with a murderer. He tried to speak, but found a difficulty in using his voice. It was a situation which might have abashed a bolder ruffian.
The Colonel rose to his feet.
"I am sorry to hurry you," he said, "but we are already late for our appointment with Wrayson and his friends."
Sydney Barnes snatched up the packet and retreated behind the table. The Colonel leaned forward and blew out the candle.
"I can see better in the dark," he remarked calmly. "You are a very foolish young man!"
