"No, when you leave this room you will be accompanied by a constable. It isn't safe to trust you out alone." Then, turning to his old college friend, he added, "What you've just said, Armytage, has renewed life within me, old fellow. I knew I was the victim of some foul plot or other, but I never suspected this man of being the actual assassin. His character's desperate enough, as witness his mean, dastardly attempt upon us last night; but I never dreamed it possible for a man to commit murder so neatly as he did." "You are determined to keep me here?" Nenci cried, his eyes glaring savagely like an animal brought to bay. "I am determined to give you up to the police," Tristram answered. "Remember, I am suspected, and I now intend to clear myself." "And risk arrest for the conspiracy." "There's no proof that I was ever associated with you," the Captain answered. "The word of a murderer isn't worth much." "You are prepared for the revelations that I can make?" "I'm prepared for anything so long as you meet with your deserts," the Captain responded. For an instant the wretched man, his sallow face haunted by a look of unutterable dread, glanced from one to the other. Then, convinced that all were determined, and realising that escape was now utterly impossible, he stepped forward, and, snatching up from the table the antique ring set with the turquoise and diamonds, with a quick movement slipped it upon the little finger of his left hand. They watched him in wonder. "You think to have a magnificent revenge," he cried, glaring wildly at them. "But I will cheat you yet. Watch!" And with the thumb and finger of his right hand he pressed the large turquoise. From beneath the ring there escaped a dark red bead of blood. "Go!" he shrieked hoarsely, his face haggard, deathlike. "Go, call the police! Denounce me, do your worst, but you will only take my lifeless body. May it be of service to you. This you intended should be a fine _coup_ of vengeance. But I'll cheat you yet! I'll cheat you--I--" "Ring, and call in the police," Armytage suggested. "Useless! useless!" the wretched man gasped, his face drawn and distorted as, clutching the back of the chair, he stood swaying forward slightly. "Can't you see that all your carefully planned revenge is unavailing?" They regarded him in blank astonishment. Even as they looked his face changed, and he was seized by convulsions which shook him from head to foot. "Can't you see?" he cried wildly. "I've cheated you, and I'm dying. On my finger is the death-ring--the pretty finger ornament which, when pressed, punctures the skin beneath and injects a poison which is swift, and to which there is no known antidote."