She gave a start of sheer horror and her hands went up to her breasts.
It was Caspar Trydell! She could see the evil in his face, combined with the murderous hatred that she had last seen when he struck her grandfather on the head and bludgeoned him to death.
“You!”
She was not certain whether she said the word aloud. She only knew that the mere sight of him made it impossible to move, impossible to breathe.
“Yes, it is I!” Caspar Trydell answered in a low voice that sounded like the hiss of a reptile. “And now you are going to die, as you should have died before!”
As he spoke, he put his hand inside his evening coat and, as he drew it out again, something glittered in the moonlight.
Idylla knew what he was about to do, but she could not move, could not cry out.
She was held by the
