travel books: and then slowly collapse, almost as though the life was ebbing from it as it fell. He saw the face as it reeled back. It was ghastly. Part of it was blown away, and on the rest of it the skin was cracked and blackened. Dain picked up the fallen revolver. He handled it delicately, much as a connoisseur might examine the workmanship of a priceless treasure. That revolver, with its ghastly trick-action, epitomised the whole thing as he saw it. It was a fraud, a boomerang that came back unknowingly and struck down its wielder. Lyall, in attempting murder, had achieved suicide. It is true the suicide was unwitting, but it was, nevertheless, undeniable. And Dain had only a momentary pang of regret. He felt that he was conscience clear. Murder is not murder when committed in self-defence. It is not even manslaughter. And he had given Lyall every conceivable chance of realising the hopelessness of his position. Short of actually telling him the particular weapon he held in his hand fired its bullet backwards, he had impressed upon him every warning he could think of. He had almost rammed them down his neck. And now it was finished and done with. Lyall was dead, a mute, inglorious corpse, with a gaping hole in his head and a death-mask of amazement on his face. Odd that he should have found a use for that revolver. He had made it one day in answer to the books

Books > Old Books > The Man They Couldn't Arrest (1927)

Page 100

THE MAN THEY COULDN'T ARREST

and then slowly collapse, almost as though the life was ebbing from it as it fell. He saw the face as it reeled back. It was ghastly. Part of it was blown away, and on the rest of it the skin was cracked and blackened.
Dain picked up the fallen revolver. He handled it delicately, much as a connoisseur might examine the workmanship of a priceless treasure.
That revolver, with its ghastly trick-action, epitomised the whole thing as he saw it. It was a fraud, a boomerang that came back unknowingly and struck down its wielder. Lyall, in attempting murder, had achieved suicide. It is true the suicide was unwitting, but it was, nevertheless, undeniable.
And Dain had only a momentary pang of regret. He felt that he was conscience clear. Murder is not murder when committed in self-defence. It is not even manslaughter. And he had given Lyall every conceivable chance of realising the hopelessness of his position. Short of actually telling him the particular weapon he held in his hand fired its bullet backwards, he had impressed upon him every warning he could think of. He had almost rammed them down his neck.
And now it was finished and done with. Lyall was dead, a mute, inglorious corpse, with a gaping hole in his head and a death-mask of amazement on his face.
Odd that he should have found a use for that revolver. He had made it one day in answer to the