"So I've found you, Charley," he whispered."Found you at last."He replaced the lid, leaving everything as it had been when he entered the attic, and stood for a time, trying to collect his thoughts which the shock of this dreadful discovery had so disordered, and to decide what to do next.
"But, then, that's ******," he thought."I must go straight to the police and bring them here.They said they wanted proof; they said I had nothing to go on but bare suspicion.But that's evidence enough to hang Deede Dawson - the girl, too, perhaps."Then he wondered whether it could be that she knew nothing and was innocent of all part or share in this dreadful deed.But how could that be possible? How could it be that such a crime committed in the house in which she lived could remain unknown to her?
On the other hand, when he thought of her clear, candid eyes; when he remembered her gentle beauty, it did not seem conceivable that behind them could lie hidden the tigerish soul of a murderess.
"That's only sentiment, though," he muttered."Nothing more.
Beautiful women have been rotten bad through and through before today.There's nothing for me to do but to go and inform the police, and get them here as soon as possible.If she's innocent, I suppose she'll be able to prove it."He hesitated a moment, as he thought of how he had left her, bound and a prisoner.
It seemed brutal to leave her like that while he was away, for he would probably be some time absent.But with a hard look, he told himself that whatever pain she suffered she must endure it.
His first and sole thought must be to bring to justice the murderers of his unfortunate friend; and to secure, too, thereby, the success almost certainly of his own mission.
To release her and leave her at liberty might endanger the attainment of both those ends, and so she must remain a prisoner.
"Only," he muttered, "if she knew the attic almost over her head held such a secret, why, didn't she take the chance I gave her of getting hold of my revolver? That she didn't, looks as if she knew nothing."But then he thought again of the photograph in her room and remembered that agony of grief to which she had been surrendering herself when he first saw her.Now those passionate tears of hers seemed to him like remorse.
"I'll leave her where she is," he decided again."I can't help it;I mustn't run any risks.My first duty is to get the police here and have Deede Dawson arrested."He went down the stairs still deep in thought, and when he reached the landing below he would not even go to make sure that his captive was still secure.
An obscure feeling that he did not wish to see her, and still more that he did not wish her to see him, prevented him.
He descended the second flight of steps to the hall, taking fewer precautions to avoid ****** a noise and still very deep in thought.
For some time he had had but little hope that young Charley Wright still lived.
Nevertheless, the dreadful discovery he had made in the attic above had affected him profoundly, and left his mind in a chaos of emotions so that he was for the time much less acutely watchful than usual.
They had spent their boyhood together, and he remembered a thousand incidents of their childhood.They had been at school and college together.And how brilliantly Charley had always done at work and play, surmounting every difficulty with a laugh, as if it were merely some new and specially amusing jest!
Every one had thought well of him, every one had believed that his future career would be brilliant.Now it had ended in this obscure and dreadful fashion, as ends the life of a trapped rat.
Dunn found himself hardly able to realize that it was really so, and through all the confused medley of his thoughts there danced and flickered his memory of a young and lovely face, now tear-stained, now smiling, now pale with terror, now calmly disdainful.
"Can she have known?" he muttered."She must have known - she can't have known - it's not possible either way."He shuddered and as he put his foot on the lowest stair he raised his hands to cover his face as though to shut out the visions that passed before him.
Another step forward he took in the darkness, and all at once there flashed upon him the light of a strong electric torch, suddenly switched on.
"Put up your hands," said a voice sharply."Or you're a dead man."He looked bewilderedly, taken altogether by surprise, and saw he was faced by a fat little man with a smooth, chubby, smiling face and eyes that were cold and grey and deadly, and who held in one hand a revolver levelled at his heart.
"Put up your hands," this newcomer said again, his voice level and calm, his eyes intent and deadly."Put up your hands or I fire."
