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"I mean the paper on which Quinton wrote, 'I die by my own hand," answered Father Brown. "The shape of that paper, my friend, was the wrong shape; the wrong shape, if ever I have seen it in this wicked world." "It only had a corner snipped off," said Flambeau, "and I understand that all Quinton's paper was cut that way."
According to my own creed I was quite free to kill Quinton, which was the best thing for everybody, even himself. But as a healthy animal I had no notion of killing myself. I resolved, therefore, that I would never do it until I saw a chance that would leave me scot free. I saw that chance this morning. I have been three times, all told, into Quinton's study today.
"Why, yes." "I met him last night! He cried those words to me again. The insolent rascal! I'll make him pay for it." "In truth you've a reckoning to settle with him." "But how does he come into this matter?" "Insolent still, he's a suitor for Mistress Quinton's hand." Fontelles gave a scornful shrug of his shoulders; Carford, smiling and more at ease, watched him.
I've just glanced over it, but the part I read seems to be true. That's the trouble with it. If it were a lie you could explode it." "I shall deny it over my signature." "Of course. The trouble will be to get people to believe your denial with Quinton's affidavit staring them in the face. It seems they have got hold of a letter, too, that you wrote.
"A dog?" von Schlichten almost shouted. The other officers echoed him. "Why, yes...." Paula Quinton's eyes widened. "But there are no dogs on Ullr, except a few owned by Terrans. And wasn't there something about ...?" Von Schlichten had the radio-phone and was calling the command car at the scene of the riot. The sergeant-driver answered.
Father Brown had stopped for a moment, and picked up out of the long grass, where it had almost been wholly hidden, a queer, crooked Oriental knife, inlaid exquisitely in coloured stones and metals. "What is this?" asked Father Brown, regarding it with some disfavour. "Oh, Quinton's, I suppose," said Dr. Harris carelessly; "he has all sorts of Chinese knickknacks about the place.
"Let us go in to him," said Father Brown shortly. "You can leave Mr. Atkinson alone. I have had him in sight since we heard Quinton's voice." "I will stop here and watch him," said Flambeau hurriedly. "You go in and see." The doctor and the priest flew to the study door, unlocked it, and fell into the room.
"In point of fact, poor Quinton doesn't have his sleeping draught for nearly half an hour. But I'm not going to have him bothered with that little beast, who only wants to borrow money that he wouldn't pay back if he could. He's a dirty little scamp, though he is Mrs. Quinton's brother, and she's as fine a woman as ever walked." "Yes," said Father Brown. "She's a good woman."
About the middle of March a strong detachment, under Lieutenant-Colonel Mawhood, made a foraging excursion for six or seven days into Jersey, surprised and defeated the American parties at Hancock's and Quinton's bridges on Always creek, which falls into the Delaware to the south of Reedy Island, killed or took fifty or sixty of the militia prisoners, and after a successful expedition returned to Philadelphia with little loss.
I left the room, and went out into the garden intoxicated with a frightful opportunity. We walked round the house; and two more things happened in my favour. You suspected an Indian, and you found a dagger which the Indian might most probably use. Taking the opportunity to stuff it in my pocket I went back to Quinton's study, locked the door, and gave him his sleeping draught.
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