"No! No!" He thrust out his hands as if warding off a blow. "I did not kill him. You cannot bring the crime home to me." "The evidence you have heard brings the crime home to you only too positively," said Hench, with a certain pity in his voice, for the sudden collapse of the man was dreadful. "Peter can prove that you were mixed up in the matter, and Mrs. Jedd can prove that you borrowed the clothes, having the orange-spotted dress made after the style of that worn by Madame Alpenny. And Simon can prove the murder. He saw you kill the man." "No! No! No!" "May I die if I didn't!" swore Bottles, who was looking nervous, for the scene shook him considerably, since he was only a boy. "It was a mean, sordid murder, committed for the sake of gain," said Vane. "Don't kick the man when he is down, Jim," said Hench, pityingly. "Why not? He was insolent enough while he was up. And to kill an old man of whom he knew nothing! Owain, it was beastly. I hope I'm as decent a chap as any, but my gorge rises at the sight of this creature." What little pride remained in Spruce rose at these words. He sprang to his feet and shook his fist wildly in the air. "I shall get off!" he screamed. "I can prove my innocence!" "Do so to the detective," said Hench, wishing to end the scene. "A detective! a detective!" Spruce clutched his throat as if to tear away the rope he was doomed to. "You won't--you won't----" His voice failed. "I saw the authorities and procured a warrant before leaving London. Every moment I expect the detective in to execute it." "No! No! No!" Spruce flung himself on his knees. "Dear Hench, good Hench, you won't allow me to be hanged? I don't want the money; I'll give it up. Let me get away; let me hide." "Did you murder my uncle?" "Yes! Yes!" Spruce's cheeks were streaming with tears and his teeth were chattering. "It's all true. I acknowledge that I killed him to get the money. But I am sorry--really and truly I am sorry. Don't give me up--don't----" "Get up," cried Vane in disgust, "and take your gruel like a man." "Bottles, see if the policeman is there," ordered Hench, and Bottles, glad to escape from the scene, fled willingly. "No!" Spruce rose from grovelling on the ground, and from a tearful martyr was suddenly changed into a wild beast. His lips curled, showing his teeth. He drew back towards the window, and his eyes flashed fire. If he had had a weapon in his hand there is no doubt he would have killed both the men. "You shan't catch me, hounds that you are. I shall escape; I shall----" "Look out, Owain, he's trying for the window!"