“You know?  Well, do not let us introduce the lady’s name.  In order to restore myself I speculated on the Stock Exchange.  My credit was good through my father’s position and the standing of the firm to which I am attached.  I heard on reliable authority, and very early, that the Central and Suburban, and the Deferred especially, was safe to fall heavily, through a motor bus amalgamation that was then a secret.  I opened a bear account and sold largely.  The shares fell, but only fractionally, and I waited.  Then, unfortunately, they began to go up.  Adverse forces were at work and rumours were put about.  I could not stand the settlement, and in order to carry over an account I was literally compelled to deal temporarily with some securities that were not technically my own property.”

“Embezzlement, sir,” commented Mr. Carlyle icily.  “But what is embezzlement on the top of wholesale murder!”

“That is what it is called.  In my case, however, it was only to be temporary.  Unfortunately, the rise continued.  Then, at the height of my despair, I chanced to be returning to Swanstead rather earlier than usual one evening, and the train was stopped at a certain signal to let another pass.  There was conversation in the carriage and I learned certain details.  One said that there would be an accident some day, and so forth.  In a flash—­as by an inspiration—­I saw how the circumstance might be turned to account.  A bad accident and the shares would certainly fall and my position would be retrieved.  I think Mr. Carrados has somehow learned the rest.”

“Max,” said Mr. Carlyle, with emotion, “is there any reason why you should not send your man for a police officer and have this monster arrested on his own confession without further delay?”

“Pray do so, Mr. Carrados,” acquiesced Drishna.  “I shall certainly be hanged, but the speech I shall prepare will ring from one end of India to the other; my memory will be venerated as that of a martyr; and the emancipation of my motherland will be hastened by my sacrifice.”

“In other words,” commented Carrados, “there will be disturbances at half-a-dozen disaffected places, a few unfortunate police will be clubbed to death, and possibly worse things may happen.  That does not suit us, Mr. Drishna.”

“And how do you propose to prevent it?” asked Drishna, with cool assurance.

“It is very unpleasant being hanged on a dark winter morning; very cold, very friendless, very inhuman.  The long trial, the solitude and the confinement, the thoughts of the long sleepless night before, the hangman and the pinioning and the noosing of the rope, are apt to prey on the imagination.  Only a very stupid man can take hanging easily.”

“What do you want me to do instead, Mr. Carrados?” asked Drishna shrewdly.

Carrados’s hand closed on the weapon that still lay on the table between them.  Without a word he pushed it across.