notorious Black Jack a "murder"?

"What are you saying, Terence? That fellow--"

"Hush! Look at us!"

He picked up the photograph and stood back so that the light fell sharply
on his face and on the photograph which he held beside his head. He
caught up a sombrero and jammed it jauntily on his head. He tilted his
face high, with resolute chin. And all at once there were two Black
Jacks, not one. He evidently saw all the admission that he cared for in
her face. He took off the hat with a dragging motion and replaced the
photograph on the table.

"I tried it in the mirror," he said quietly. "I wasn't quite sure until I
tried it in the mirror. Then I knew, of course."

She felt him slipping out of her life.

"What shall I say to you, Terence?"

"Is that my real name?"

She winced. "Yes. Your real name."

"Good. Do you remember our talk of today?"

"What talk?"

He drew his breath with something of a groan.