When I had the diary, and could read
it word by word, - it was only about the night before your last
visit to Scarborough, - you remember the night? you slept with a
small flat vial tied to your wrist, - I sent to Mr. Sampson, who
was kept out of view. This is Mr. Sampson's trusty servant
standing by the door. We three saved your niece among us.'
Slinkton looked at us all, took an uncertain step or two from the
place where he had stood, returned to it, and glanced about him in
a very curious way, - as one of the meaner reptiles might, looking
for a hole to hide in. I noticed at the same time, that a singular
change took place in the figure of the man, - as if it collapsed
within his clothes, and they consequently became ill-shapen and
ill-fitting.
'You shall know,' said Beckwith, 'for I hope the knowledge will be
bitter and terrible to you, why you have been pursued by one man,
and why, when the whole interest that Mr. Sampson represents would
have expended any money in hunting you down, you have been tracked
to death at a single individual's charge. I hear you have had the
name of Meltham on your lips sometimes?'
I saw, in addition to those other changes, a sudden stoppage come
upon his breathing.
'When you sent the sweet girl whom you murdered (you know with what
artfully made-out surroundings and probabilities you sent her) to
Meltham's office, before taking her abroad to originate the
transaction that doomed her to the grave, it fell to Meltham's lot
to see her and to speak with her.
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