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"Steady on," Charteris said, soberly. "Pull yourself together, old man. Your good fortune or something has turned your brain. You could not have killed Holt last night, for the simple reason that he wasn't here. He dined with us, and I drove him to the station and saw him get into the train. I also saw him send a telegram making as appointment in London for eleven o'clock last night."
"Quito so," Ralph replied. "He got out at the Junction, and came here. He had been drinking. I may as well make a clean breast of the whole thing while I am about it. The whole of the trouble arose over Enid. Holt discovered last night at dinner that there was something between Enid and myself. He had an idea in his head that if I had not come along Enid would have cared for him; in fact, he told me that she had been very near to caring for him at one time. We had rather a violent scene I was to stand out of the way of the man and Enid was to be his consolation. And when I refused, Holt spoke of those letters which I had believed to be destroyed. He said he could get the letters any time, and that he would show them to Enid. I can't tell you what happened after that, except that there was a lot of red mist before my eyes, and when the mist cleared away Holt was lying on the floor of the dining-room dead. I killed him with an Indian paper-cutter. I can see the body now as it lay before me."