We stood up together. We heard Furnilove padding towards the door,
and we both moved out into the passage as he slid up the latch and
unhooked the chain. Constantia, in her eagerness, had pressed a
little ahead of me.
A man rushed in, disregarding Furnilove, shouldering him aside--a
man in a furred overcoat. Expecting Farrell, for the moment I
mistook him for Farrell. Even when above the fur collar I caught the
sight of common khaki, for another moment I took him for Farrell.
But he ran for Constantia, stretching out his arms as if to embrace
her; and as he stretched them, under the hall light, I saw that one
of his hands was bleeding.
I had enough presence of mind to spring in front of her and ward him
off. It was Foe.
"It's all right," he gasped, staring at me. "No need to make a fuss.
. . . I have killed him." And with that, still staring at me
horribly, he sank slowly and collapsed in a huddle at my feet, raving
out incoherent words.
Furnilove behaved admirably. Having assured himself that Miss
Constantia was safe, and that I had the intruder under control, he
went smartly to the telephone.
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