"Maiming is a felony. You know that. Amputation is maiming. Flynt told you so. The fellow that sold you that hand of yours died of it, didn't he?"
Mortmain uttered an exclamation of horror. He looked down at the fearful thing and it seemed to him to be the color of death. "They can never prove it!" he cried faintly. "They can't prove it! They cannot!"
"Yes, they can! I saw it done," remarked Flaggs. "I saw him buried in the garden. He is there yet--minus his hand."
"You villain!" gasped Mortmain. The room reeled, and Flaggs danced before him, gibbering with glee. The light darkened and brightened again and seemed to swing in circles.
"Pull yourself together, Sir Richard!" remarked Flaggs mockingly. "Pull yourself together! Isn't it worth ten thousand pounds or one hundred thousand pounds? But I'm reasonable. Only ten thousand pounds! Come, come! Let me have it!"
"_No!_" shouted Mortmain. "Not if I die for it."
"Then you _will_ die for it," said Flaggs.
The sound of the fiddles came through the closed door of the study. The cries of the lackeys and the roll of carriages arriving and departing could be heard in the front.
"You will die for it, as there is a God in heaven, if I choose!"
Mortmain stood silent. He had a presentiment of what Flaggs was going to say.
"A word from me," continued the clerk, "and you hang for the _murder of Lord Russell_. Everyone knows you hated him. Flynt, Joyce, and I heard you say you would kill him. You owed him seventy-five thousand pounds and it was two days overdue. He would have ruined you next day. The officer saw you outside his window within five minutes of the murder, and so did I. There was nothing taken but the notes--nothing. They were found in your possession the next morning. How did they get there? The case is complete. The notes convict you. I've got them. They are yours for ten thousand pounds--only ten thousand pounds."
"You villain," shouted Mortmain, springing toward him.
The door from the hall opened and Joyce entered letting in the warm breath of roses and the loud strains of a waltz.
"Lady Bella has arrived, Sir Richard," he announced.
"Tell her I am coming," said Mortmain, starting for the door.
"Wait!" shrieked Flaggs, his face horribly distorted. "Wait!" Joyce had retired.