‘Oh my God,’ uttered Gerald in some dismay. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. Melusine crossed to open it, and immediately the knocking intensified in volume. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. He seemed to be thinking hard. To stumble upon the trail through the agency of a bottle of whisky! Drank queer; so his bottle had rendered him conspicuous.
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