"Pray, Mister Major Meredyth," said he, "what is to prevent me?" "Penal servitude for malicious slander." "I should win my case." "In that event they would get you, on your own showing, for being an accessory after the fact of murder, and for blackmail." "Suppose I risk it?" "You won't," said I. Sir Anthony turned to the bell-push by the side of the mantelpiece. "What's the good of talking to this double-dyed scoundrel?" He pointed to the door. "You infamous liar, get out. And if I ever catch you prowling round this house, I'll set the dogs on you." Gedge marched to the door and turned on the threshold and shook his fist. "You'll repent your folly till your dying day!" "To Hell with you," cried Sir Anthony. The door slammed. We were left alone. An avalanche of silence overwhelmed us. Heaven knows how long we remained speechless and motionless--I in my wheel-chair, he standing on the hearthrug staring awfully in front of him. At last he drew a deep breath and threw up his arms and flung himself down on a leather-covered couch, where he sat, elbows on knees and his head in his hands. After a while he lifted a drawn face. "It's true, Duncan," said he, "and you know it." "I don't know it," I replied stoutly, "any more than you do." He rose in his nervous way and came swiftly to me and clapped both his hands on my frail shoulders and bent over me--he was a little man, as I have told you--and put his face so close to mine that I could feel his breath on my cheek. "Upon your soul as a Christian you know that man wasn't lying." I looked into his eyes--about six inches from mine. "Boyce never murdered Althea," I said. "But he is the man--the man I've been looking for." I pushed him away with both hands, using all my strength. It was too horrible. "Suppose he is. What then?" He fell back a pace or two. "Once I remember saying: 'If ever I get hold of that man--God help him!'" He clenched his fists and started to pace up and down the library, passing and repassing my chair. At last my nerves could stand it no longer and I called on him to halt. "Gedge's story is curiously incomplete," said I. "We ought to have crossexamined him more closely. Is it likely that Boyce should have gone off leaving behind him a witness of his crime whom he had threatened to murder, and who he must have known would have given information as soon as the death was discovered? And don't you think Gedge's reason for holding his tongue very unconvincing? His fool hatred of our class, instead of keeping him cynically indifferent, would have made him lodge information at once and gloat over our discomfiture." I could not choose but come to the defence of the unhappy man whom I had learned to call my friend, although, for all my trying, I could conjure up no doubt as to his intimate relation with the tragedy. As Sir Anthony did not speak, I went on.