Mrs. Jasher took no notice.
"The confession is lying on my desk--all the sheets of paper are
loose. I had no time to bind them together, for he came in. He
wanted the emerald, and the confession. I told him that I had
given the emerald to you, Random, and that I had confessed all in
writing. Then he went mad and flew at me with a dreadful knife.
He knocked over the candles and the lamp. Everything went out
and all was darkness, and I lay crying for help, with that devil
stabbing--stabbing--ah--"
"Who, in heaven's name, is the man?" demanded Random, standing up
in his eagerness. But Mrs. Jasher had fallen back in a faint,
and Robinson was again supplying her with brandy.
"You had better leave the room, you two," he said, "or I can't be
answerable for her life."
"I must stay and learn the truth," said Random determinedly,
"and you, Hope, go into the parlor and find that confession. It
is on the desk, as she said, all loose sheets. No doubt it was
the confession which the man she refers to tried to secure when
he came back the second time. He may make another attempt, or
Painter may go to sleep. Hurry! hurry!"
Archie needed no second telling, as he realized what hung on the
securing of the confession.
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