And there was also his
family. "I must come to some decision," he said to himself firmly.
And then the great scream fell upon his ears and echoed through his
brain for ever and ever. It came from the house before which he was
standing, and he expected the whole street to wake aghast with the
horror of it. But there followed a silence that seemed to emphasise
the ugliness of the sound. Far away an engine screamed as if in
mocking imitation; and that was all. Bennett had counted up to a
hundred and seventy before the door of the house opened, and a man
came out on to the steps.
"Oh, constable," he said coolly, "come inside, will you? I have
something to show you."
Bennett mounted the steps doubtfully.
"There was a scream," he said.
The man looked at him quickly. "So you heard it," he said. "It was
not pretty."
"No, it was not," replied Bennett.
The man led him down the dim passage into the back sitting-room. The
body of a man lay on the sofa; it was curled like a dry leaf.
"That is my brother," said the man, with a little emphatic nod; "I
have killed him. He was my enemy."
Bennett stared dully at the body, without believing it to be really
there.
"Dead!" he said mechanically.
"And anything I say will be used against me in evidence! As if you
could compress my hatred into one little lying notebook."
"I don't care a damn about your hatred," said Bennett, with heat. "An
hour ago, perhaps, I might have arrested you; now I only find you
uninteresting.
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