He returned to attend the funeral. “I killed him. Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. Only a book detective could dope this out. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. “Well, you certainly did very well at tea,” she remarked.
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