Here he took his biggest chance, because, before sending the weapon to me, he had had the spring of the Browning so eased that the slightest touch set it off and, as you know, the pistol being automatic, the explosion of one cartridge, reloading and firing the next and so on, it was probably that a chance touch would have brought his scheme to nought--probably me also.
"Of what happened on that night you are aware." He went on to tell of his trial and conviction and skimmed over the life he led until that morning on Dartmoor.
"Kara knew my innocence had been proved and his hatred for me being his great obsession, since I had the thing he had wanted but no longer wanted, let that be understood--he saw the misery he had planned for me and my dear wife being brought to a sudden end.

He had, by the way, already planned and carried his plan into execution, a system of tormenting her.
"You did not know," he turned to T.X., "that scarcely a month passed, but some disreputable villain called at her flat, with a story that he had been released from Portland or Wormwood Scrubbs that morning and that he had seen me.

The story each messenger brought was one sufficient to break the heart of any but the bravest woman.

It was a story of ill-treatment by brutal officials, of my illness, of my madness, of everything calculated to harrow the feelings of a tender-hearted and faithful wife.
"That was Kara's scheme.

Not to hurt with the whip or with the knife, but to cut deep at the heart with his evil tongue, to cut to the raw places of the mind.