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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Yet you needn't have done it because your first idea was right!" "Right?" echoed Langholm, densely. "My first idea was right?" "You said you first thought it was I who killed her husband." "It couldn't have been!" "But it was." Langholm got back to his feet. He could conceive but one explanation of this preposterous statement. Severino's sickness had extended to his brain. He was delirious.
Langholm felt enraged; after his own promise to write to Rachel, a promise already fulfilled, the unhappy youth might have had the decency to refrain from underhand tricks like this. Langholm felt inclined to take a cab at once to Severino's lodgings, there to relieve his mind by a very plain expression of his opinion.
They ought to have put him in the box and had his evidence." "He was still too ill to be called," rejoined Venn. "But I'll take you at your word, dear boy, and tell you exactly how I do know all about his illness. You see that dark chap with the cigar, who's just come in to listen? That's Severino's doctor; it was he who put him up here; and I'll introduce you to him, if you like, after dinner."
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