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against the sundial; the next it had rolled down the steep bank and lay at the
American s feet, faintly moving one arm. A gaudy, unnatural gold ornament on
the arm suddenly reminded Kidd of Romeo and Juliet; of course the tight
crimson suit was part of the play. But there was a long red stain down the
bank from which the man had rolled that was no part of the play. He had been
run through the body.
Mr. Calhoun Kidd shouted and shouted again. Once more he seemed to hear
phantasmal footsteps, and started to find another figure already near him. He
knew the figure, and yet it terrified him. The dissipated youth who had called
himself Dalroy had a horribly quiet way with him; if Boulnois failed to keep
appointments that had been made, Dalroy had a sinister air of keeping
appointments that hadn t. The moonlight discolored everything, against
Dalroy s red hair his wan face looked not so much white as pale green.
All this morbid impressionism must be Kidd s excuse for having cried out,
brutally and beyond all reason: Did you do this, you devil?
James Dalroy smiled his unpleasing smile; but before he could speak, the
fallen figure made another movement of the arm, waving vaguely towards the
place where the sword fell; then came a moan, and then it managed to speak.
Boulnois.... Boulnois, I say.... Boulnois did it... jealous of me...he was
jealous, he was, he was...
Kidd bent his head down to hear more, and just managed to catch the words:
Boulnois...with my own sword...he threw it...
Again the failing hand waved towards the sword, and then fell rigid with a
thud. In Kidd rose from its depth all that acrid humor that is the strange
salt of the seriousness of his race.
See here, he said sharply and with command, you must fetch a doctor. This
man s dead.
And a priest, too, I suppose, said Dalroy in an undecipherable manner. All
these Champions are papists.
The American knelt down by the body, felt the heart, propped up the head and
used some last efforts at restoration; but before the other journalist
reappeared, followed by a doctor and a priest, he was already prepared to
assert they were too late.
Were you too late also? asked the doctor, a solid prosperous-looking man,
with conventional moustache and whiskers, but a lively eye, which darted over
Kidd dubiously.
In one sense, drawled the representative of the Sun. I was too late to
save the man, but I guess I was in time to hear something of importance. I
heard the dead man denounce his assassin.
And who was the assassin? asked the doctor, drawing his eyebrows together.
Boulnois, said Calhoun Kidd, and whistled softly.
The doctor stared at him gloomily with a reddening brow , but he did not
contradict. Then the priest, a shorter figure in the background, said mildly:
I understood that Mr. Boulnois was not coming to Pendragon Park this
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evening.
There again, said the Yankee grimly, I may be in a position to give the
old country a fact or two. Yes, sir, John Boulnois was going to stay in all
this evening; he fixed up a real good appointment there with me. But John
Boulnois changed his mind; John Boulnois left his home abruptly and all alone,
and came over to this darned Park an hour or so ago. His butler told me so. I
think we hold what the all-wise police call a clue have you sent for them?
Yes, said the doctor, but we haven t alarmed anyone else yet.
Does Mrs. Boulnois know? asked James Dalroy, and again Kidd was conscious
of an irrational desire to hit him on his curling mouth.
I have not told her, said the doctor gruffly , but here come the police.
The little priest had stepped out into the main avenue, and now returned with
the fallen sword, which looked ludicrously large and theatrical when attached
to his dumpy figure, at once clerical and commonplace. Just before the police
come, he said apologetically, has anyone got a light?
The Yankee journalist took an electric torch from his pocket, and the priest
held it close to the middle part of the blade, which he examined with blinking
care. Then, without glancing at the point or pommel, he handed the long weapon
to the doctor.
I fear I m no use here, he said, with a brief sigh. I ll say good night to
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