?" he added,
finding Westray still silent.

Westray was obliged to meet his look once more.

"I see," he said, most reluctantly. He knew now, that the unusual
moulding and the size of the picture that hung in Miss Joliffe's house,
must have revealed its identity long ago to the man who stood before
him; that during all those visits in which plans for the church had been
examined and discussed, Lord Blandamer must have known what lay hid
under the flowers, must have known that the green wriggling caterpillar
was but a bar of the nebuly coat. Confidences were being forced upon
Westray that he could not forget, and could not reveal. He longed to
cry out, "For God's sake, do not tell me these things; do not give me
this evidence against yourself!"

There was another short pause, and then Lord Blandamer turned. He
seemed to expect Westray to turn with him, and they walked back over the
soft carpet down the gallery in a silence that might be heard. The air
was thick with doom; Westray felt as if he were stifling. He had lost
mental control, his thoughts were swallowed up in a terrible chaos.
Only one reflection stood out, the sense of undivided responsibility.
It was not as if he were adding a link, as in duty bound, to a long
chain of other evidence: the whole matter was at rest; to set it in
motion again would be his sole act, his act alone. There was a refrain
ringing in his ears, a verse that he had heard read a few Sundays before
in Cullerne Church, "Am I God, to kill and make alive? Am I God, to
kill and make alive?" Yet duty commanded him to go forward, and go
forward he must, though the result was certain: he would be playing the
part of executioner.

The man whose fate he must seal was keeping pace with him quietly, step
by step. If he could only have a few moments to himself, he might clear
his distracted thoughts. He paused before some other picture, feigning
to examine it, but Lord Blandamer paused also, and looked at him. He
knew Lord Blandamer's eye was upon him, though he refused to return the
look. It seemed a mere act of courtesy on Lord Blandamer's part to
stop. Mr Westray might be specially interested in some of the
pictures, and, if any information was required, it was the part of the
host to see that it was forthcoming. Westray stopped again once or
twice, but always with the same result. He did not know whether he was
looking at portraits or landscapes, though he was vaguely aware tha