Angel of Terror

this?" asked the officer sharply."It is James Meredith," said Jack simply."Dead?" said the officer, startled. "He has committed suicide!"Jack did not reply, and watched the inspector as he made his br

s breath."Did he shoot himself?" she asked in a low voice.Jack regarded her coldly."The only thing that I am certain about," and Lydia winced at the cruelty in his voice, "is that you did not shoot him, Miss Briggerland.""How dare you!" flamed Jean Briggerland. The quick flush that came to her cheek was the only other evidence of emotion she betrayed."I dare say a lot," said Jack curtly. "You asked me if it is a case of suicide, and I tell you that it is not--it is a case of murder. James Meredith was found with a revolver clutched in his right hand. He was shot through the left temple, and if you'll explain to me how any man, holding a pistol in a normal way, can perform that feat, I will accept your theory of suicide."There was a dead silence."Besides," Jack went on, with a little shrug, "poor Jimmy had no pistol."Jean Briggerland had dropped her eyes, and stood there with downcast head and compressed lips. Presently she looked up."I know how you feel, Mr. Glover," she said gently. "I can well understand, believing such dreadful things about me as you do, that you must hate me."Her mouth quivered and her voice grew husky with sorrow."I loved James Meredith," she said, "and he loved me.""He loved you well enough to marry somebody else," said Jack Glover, and Lydia was shocked."Mr. Glover," she said reproachfully, "do you think it is right to say these things, with poor Mr. Meredith lying dead?"He turned slowly toward her, and she saw in his humorous eyes a hardness that she had not seen before."Miss Briggerland has told us that I hate her," he said in an even voice, "and she spoke nothing but the truth. I hate her perhaps beyond understanding--Mrs. Meredith." He emphasised the words, and the girl winced. "And one day, if the Circumstantialists spare me----""The Circumstantialists," said Jean Briggerland slowly. "I don't quite understand you."Jack Glover laughed, and it was not a pleasant laugh."Perhaps you will," he said shortly. "As to your loving poor Jim--well, you know best. I am trying to be polite to you, Miss Briggerland, and not to gloat over the fact that you arrived too late to stop this wedding! And shall I tell you why you arrived too late?" His eyes were laughing again. "It was because I had arranged with the vicar of St. Peter's to be here at nine o'clock this morning, well knowing that you and your little army of spies would discover the hour of the wedding, and would take care to be here before. And then I secretly sent for an old Oxford friend of mine to be here at eight--he was here last night."Still she stood regarding him without visible evidence of the anger which Lydia thoug