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"
I
do
n't
deny
,
"
continues
he
;
"
I
need
n't
--
that
I
intended
to
kill
some
one
.
I
did
.
Nor
am
I
going
to
deny
who
it
was
.
It
was
the
cur
I
see
standing
before
me
.
"
In
a
glance
of
concentrated
hatred
,
the
speaker
rests
his
eye
upon
Gerald
;
who
only
answers
with
a
look
,
so
calm
as
almost
to
betray
indifference
.
"
Yes
.
I
intended
to
kill
him
.
I
had
my
reasons
.
I
'm
not
going
to
say
what
they
were
.
It
's
no
use
now
.
"
I
thought
I
had
killed
him
;
but
,
as
hell
's
luck
would
have
it
,
the
Irish
hound
had
changed
cloaks
with
my
cousin
.
"
You
know
the
rest
.
By
mistake
I
fired
the
shot
--
meant
for
an
enemy
,
and
fatal
to
a
friend
.
It
was
sure
enough
;
and
poor
Henry
dropped
from
his
horse
.
But
to
make
more
sure
,
I
drew
out
my
knife
;
and
the
cursed
serapé
still
deceiving
me
,
I
hacked
off
his
head
.
"
The
"
sensation
"
again
expresses
itself
in
shuddering
and
shouts
--
the
latter
prolonged
into
cries
of
retribution
--
mingled
with
that
murmuring
which
proclaims
a
story
told
.
There
is
no
more
mystery
,
either
about
the
murder
or
its
motive
;
and
the
prisoner
is
spared
further
description
of
that
fiendish
deed
,
that
left
the
dead
body
of
Henry
Poindexter
without
a
head
.
"
Now
!
"
cries
he
,
as
the
shouting
subsides
,
and
the
spectators
stand
glaring
upon
him
,
"
you
know
all
that
's
passed
;
but
not
what
's
to
come
.
There
's
another
scene
yet
You
see
me
standing
on
my
grave
;
but
I
do
n't
go
into
it
,
till
I
've
sent
him
to
his
.
I
do
n't
,
by
God
!
"
There
is
no
need
to
guess
at
the
meaning
of
this
profane
speech
--
the
last
of
Calhoun
's
life
.
Its
meaning
is
made
clear
by
the
act
that
accompanies
it
.
