“What do you mean by looking like that, all of you?” he exclaimed.  “What does it matter?  He was only my man-servant.  I am Wenham Gardner, millionaire.  No one will put me in prison for that.  Besides, he shouldn’t have tried to keep me away from my wife.  Anyway, it don’t matter.  I am quite mad.  Mad people can do what they like.  They have to stop in an asylum for six months, and then they’re quite cured and they start again.  I don’t mind being mad for six months.  Elizabeth,” he whined, “come and be mad, too.  You haven’t been kind to me.  There’s plenty more money—­plenty more.  Come back for a little time and I’ll show you.”

“How did you kill Mathers?” Pritchard asked.

“I stabbed him when he was stooping down,” Wenham Gardner explained.  “You see, when I left college my father thought it would be good for me to do something.  I dare say it would have been but I didn’t want to.  I studied surgery for six months.  The only thing I remember was just where to kill a man behind the left shoulder.  I remembered that.  Mathers was a fat man, and he stooped so that his coat almost burst.  I just leaned over, picked out the exact spot, and he crumpled all up.  I expect,” he went on, “you’ll find him there still.  No one comes near the place for days and days.  Mathers used to leave me locked up and do all the shopping himself.  I expect he’s lying there now.  Some one ought to go and see.”

Elizabeth was sobbing quietly to herself.  Tavernake felt the perspiration break out upon his forehead.  There was something appalling in the way this young man talked.

“I don’t understand why you all look so serious,” he continued.  “No one is going to hurt me for this.  I am quite mad now.  You see, I am playing with this doll.  Sane men don’t play with dolls.  I hope they’ll try me in New York, though.  I am well-known in New York.  I know all the lawyers and the jurymen.  Oh, they’re up to all sorts of tricks in New York!  Say, you don’t suppose they’ll try me over here?” he broke off suddenly, turning to Pritchard.  “I shouldn’t feel so much at home here.”

“Take him away,” Eizabeth begged.  “Take him away.”  Pritchard nodded.

“I thought you’d better hear,” he said.  “I am going to take him away now.  I shall send a telegram to the police-station at St. Catherine’s.  They had better go up and see what’s happened.”

Pritchard took his captive once more by the arm.  The young man struggled violently.

“I don’t like you, Pritchard,” he shrieked.  “I don’t want to go with you.  I want to stay with Elizabeth.  I am not really afraid of her.  She’d like to kill me, I know, but she’s too clever —­oh, she’s too clever!  I’d like to stay with her.”

Pritchard led him away.

“We’ll see about it later on,” he said.  “You’d better come with me just now.”

The door closed behind them.  Tavernake staggered up.