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Updated: June 29, 2025
"But first permit me to restore the money that I have been keeping for you." And I took out my pocketbook. Simon stared at me incredulously. "I do not understand you in the least, now, M. Hewlett," he exclaimed. "You are to keep the money. I do not go back upon my bargains." "It is not, however, your money," I retorted, though I knew that it soon would be.
He reached the second turn only eight yards behind Hewlett, and that latter freshman made the poorer turn. Down the home stretch now! Dick began to work deep breathing for all he was worth. Instead of taking slow, deep breaths, he breathed rapidly, pumping his lungs full of air. That rapid deep breathing started his heart to working faster, sent the blood bounding through his arteries.
He stood bareheaded, and his massive, lined, hard, weather-beaten face might have been a sneering gargoyle's, carved out of granite on some cathedral wall. He stood half sheltered by the projecting ledge, and his aspect so fascinated me that I forgot my resolution to shoot to kill. "Bonjour, M. Hewlett," he called across the chasm. "Don't be afraid of me any more than I am afraid of you.
"Ah, you have spoken of a Tom Carson many times," said Jacqueline. "Soon, monsieur, I shall begin to believe that such a person really exists." "Tell me where you met Hewlett." "I tell you for the last time, monsieur, that I do not remember. But what I do remember I shall tell you.
The bullet whipped past his face, and with an oath he dropped the stick and handkerchief too, and scuttled back to shelter. Then Leroux's voice hailed me from the tunnel. "Hewlett!" he called, and there was no trace of mockery in his tones now, "will you come out and talk with me? Will you meet me in the open, if you prefer?" I fired another shot in futile rage.
But this time I had come back to stay. "Can I do anything further for you, M. Hewlett?" he asked. "Was not your bed comfortable? Do you want something, or is it only habit that has brought you back here where nobody wants you?" "I have come back to kill you, Leroux," I answered, and pulled the trigger six times. And each time I heard nothing but the click of the hammer.
They esteem considerably, we are informed, the writings of "Gill, Romaine, Hawker, Parkes, Hewlett, and others belonging that church."
It was the clipping from the newspaper, descriptive of the murdered man, which I had cut out in the train and placed in my pocketbook. "You dropped this, my friend, when you pulled out your check-book," said Simon. "You are a very poor conspirator, Paul Hewlett. Assuredly I would not have you on my side at any price. Well?" "Well?" I repeated mechanically. "Who killed him?" he shouted.
"No, no, I won't have him murdered, Simon," he protested, laying a trembling hand on Leroux's shoulder. "He has almost as good a roulette system as I have." We must have stood confronting each other for fully a minute. Then Leroux dropped his hands and smiled sourly at me. "You seem temporarily to have the advantage of me, M. Hewlett," he said.
I added that the trouble had partially destroyed her memory, so that she was not competent to decide who her protectors were. When I had ended he was looking at me with a benignancy that I had never seen before upon his face. "M. Hewlett," he answered, "I have long suspected a part of what you have told me, and therefore I readily accept your statements.
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