…heart-rending scream, and in spite of the remonstrance of the police, every one, saving myself and the constables who held me, made a rush for the door. The master of the house was lying on the floor beside his bed, face downwards, with the back of his skull smashed to pulp. He did it with his jemmy, without a doubt, I heard someone say.” See, there are bloodstains on his coat!” Which of course there were, stains from my own blood. Then the police sergeant formally charged me with the murder; my clothes were searched, and all the trinkets I had nabbed from the dressing– table were brought to light.”And all the while this was taking place, that demon of a traitress was kneeling beside her dead husband the man she hated and whom, I am positive, she killed moaning and groaning, and calling upon Heaven, in…