"Miss Endacott," Katherine explained, "wants to see you immediately and talk to you. Take her away somewhere. I will wait."
"I am pleased to talk to Miss Endacott anywhere she wishes," Mr. Johnson acquiesced.
She swung round upon him as soon as they had entered the room--superb, beautiful but furious.
"Mr. Johnson," she began, "I have come to beseech you, to insist that you move no further in this horrible affair. Nothing can bring my uncle back to life; nothing can ever still the remorse of whoever killed him. Beyond that, let it rest. I implore you, Mr. Johnson, to do nothing more."
"My dear young lady," he replied gravely, "think of what you are proposing. You can scarcely be content to let your uncle's murderer go scot free."
"That is just what I do want," she persisted. "He gained nothing by it, and--I am quite sure that, whoever it was, he was not altogether sane. Even on the steamer--Mr. Johnson, I beg you to believe me--Gregory Ballaston was under the influence of that horrible Image. All the time he behaved quite strangely. As soon as he had parted from it, he was as different as possible. If whoever killed my uncle came from the house where that Image is--it's a terrible thing to say, but I honestly believe it--they couldn't help it, they weren't responsible."
The tenant of the Great House shook his head.
"What do you mean, too late?" she demanded, with a sudden fear in her eyes. "What have you done? What right have you to interfere, anyway? Gregory Ballaston is going abroad to-night. That is the best thing that could happen."
"It is nevertheless too late," Mr. Johnson declared. "The local police have consulted with Scotland Yard by telephone, and they have decided that the evidence they hold at present against Gregory Ballaston is sufficient for them to stop his going abroad. They have issued two warrants to-night. He will be arrested, I should say, within the next few minutes."
She seemed suddenly to tower above him; white, passionate, menacing. Her eyes blazed, her fingers seemed to seek a weapon. It was the first vital fury of youth.
"You brute!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Gregory!"
For a moment the earth seemed to darken around her. Mr. Johnson groaned as he led the half-fainting girl to a couch.