"Then he killed himself. That futile little drunkard, eaten up
with his own selfishness and vanity, offered his beastliness to
the truest and purest woman on this earth. You have seen her,
Mr. Gillingham, but you never knew Mark Ablett. Even if he had
not been a drunkard, there was no chance for her of happiness
with him. I had known him for many years, but never once had I
seen him moved by any generous emotion. To have lived with that
shrivelled little soul would have been hell for her; and a
thousand times worse hell when he began to drink.

"So he had to be killed. I was the only one left to protect her,
for her mother was in league with Mark to bring about her ruin.
I would have shot him openly for her sake, and with what
gladness, but I had no mind to sacrifice myself needlessly. He
was in my power; I could persuade him to almost anything by
flattery; surely it would not be difficult to give his death the
appearance of an accident.

"I need not take up your time by telling you of the many plans I
made and rejected. For some days I inclined towards an
unfortunate boating accident in the pond--Mark, a very
indifferent swimmer, myself almost exhausted in a gallant attempt
to hold him up. And then he himself gave me the idea, he and
Miss Norris between them, and so put himself in my hands; without
risk of discovery, I should have said, had you not discovered me.

"We were talking about ghosts. Mark had been even more vain,
pompous and absurd than usual, and I could see that Miss Norris
was irritated by it. After dinner she suggested dressing up as a
ghost and frightening him. I thought it my duty to warn her that