He got up and fumbled his way to the desk again, and after a pause began to write, with many delays and hesitation.
Presently I crossed and over his shoulder read what he had written. A silly lie about having found the paper. I tore the sheet from the desk and crumpled it up.
"Don’t think to palm off that lie to me. I know how you got it. Write the truth, or I send for Herr Borsen." The threat had little effect however.
"I swear on my soul that that is the truth," he muttered, looking round.
"You are playing with your life, man. Your only chance of getting me to hold my tongue is to make a clean breast of it, not only about your theft but another thing."
"What do you mean?" Just a whisper of terror. No more.
I took out the ring which I had found on the night of Ziegler’s murder.
It was the breaking point. He stared at it a second like a man bereft of his wits, gave one glance up into my stern, set face, and with a groan let his head fall on the desk before it.
But he had swooned; and when I released my grip of him, he slipped from the chair to the ground and lay a huddled heap on the floor.
As soon as I realized that von Felsen had fainted, I laid him on his back and hunted round for some spirits. I found some brandy, and after having poured about half a wineglass down his throat, left him to recover his senses.
He was in a desperate plight when he came to; and at one time I was so alarmed by his looks and his feeble flickering pulse, that I was on the point of calling assistance. If his heart failed while he and I were alone together, it might be awkward for me.
For him I had no sort of feeling but loathing and contempt; and whether he lived or died was a matter of indifference so long as he lived long enough to do what I required.
When he was looking his worst, he rallied a bit, however, and another dose of the spirit set his pulse beating again with less irregularity and some strength.
After a while he sat up and looked about him vacantly.
"I fainted?" he said, in a weak shaky voice.
"Yes," I nodded. "I found your brandy and gave you some."
"Give me some more. Oh, my God, I remember now," he cried wildly, and clapped both his hands to his face.
I gave him the spirit and the glass rattled as he placed it to his chattering teeth. "You’d better get on that sofa and lie down for a while."
