A sudden rage at Kervick flamed up. He clearly had played the fool--clumsily over-plying the simpleton with drink till he had killed him. The shadow of murder indubitably hung over the thing. And then--the crass witlessness of telegraphing! Already, doubtless, the police of Edinborough were talking over the wires with Scotland Yard. A reference to a death in Edinborough, in a telegram from Newcastle--it was incredible that this should escape the eye of the authorities. Any minute might bring a detective through that door there.
