Almost it seemed as if the record in my pocket burned--spontaneously--so
intense was my feeling. There in the glass was that fatal, telltale
white precipitate.
“My God, it's the milk ring!” whispered Tom close to my ear.
Hastily Kennedy dropped the serum into the fifth. It remained as clear
as crystal.
My hand trembled as it touched the envelope containing my record of the
names.
“The person who wore the coat with that blood-stain on it,” declared
Kennedy solemnly, “was the person who struck Lewis Langley down, who
choked him and then dragged his scarcely dead body across the floor
and obliterated the marks of violence in the blazing log fire. Jameson,
whose name is opposite the sign on this glass?”
I could scarcely tear the seal to look at the paper in the envelope. At
last I unfolded it, and my eye fell on the name opposite the fatal sign.
But my mouth was dry, and my tongue refused to move. It was too much
like reading a death-sentence. With my finger on the name I faltered an
instant.
Tom leaned over my shoulder and read it to himself. “For Heaven's sake,
Jameson,” he cried, “let the ladies retire before you read the name.”
“It's not necessary,” said a thick voice. “We quarrelled over the
estate. My share's mortgaged up to the limit, and Lewis refused to lend
me more even until I could get Isabelle happily married. Now Lewis's
goes to an outsider--Harrington, boy, take care of Isabelle, fortune or
no fortune. Good--”
Someone seized James Langley's arm as he pressed an automatic revolver
to his temple. He reeled like a drunken man and dropped the gun on the
floor with an oath.
“Beaten again,” he muttered. “Forgot to move the ratchet from 'safety'
to 'fire.'”
Like a madman he wrenched himself loose from us, sprang through the
door, and darted upstairs. “I'll show you some combustion!” he shouted
back fiercely.
Kennedy was after him like a flash. “The will!” he cried.
We literally tore the door off its hinges and burst into James Langley's
room. He was bending eagerly over the fireplace. Kennedy made a flying
leap at him. Just enough of the will was left unburned to be admitted to
probate.