They were
afraid of you--the aristocrats, and they bought you. Oh, we are
not blind up there--there are newspapers in our public houses, and
now and then one can afford a half-penny. We have read of you at
their parties and their dances. Quite one of them you have become,
haven't you? But, Mr. Brott, have you never been afraid? Have you
never said to yourself, there is justice in the earth? Suppose it
finds me out?"
"Hedley, you are talking rubbish," Brott said. "Up here you would
see things with different eyes. Letheringham is pledged."
"If any man ever earned hell," Hedley continued, "it is you, Brott,
you who came to us a deliverer, and turned out to be a lying prophet.
'Hell,'" he repeated fiercely, "and may you find it swiftly."
The man's right hand came out of his long pocket. They were in the
thick of Piccadilly, but his action was too swift for any
interference. Four reports rang suddenly out, and the muzzle of
the revolver was held deliberately within an inch or so of Brett's
heart. And before even the nearest of the bystanders could realise
what had happened Brott lay across the pavement a dead man, and
Hedley was calmly handing over the revolver to a policeman who had
sprang across the street.
"Be careful, officer," he said, "there are still two chambers loaded.
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