oiled and shapeless garments,
could be identical with the well set-up, prosperous and confident man of
affairs he remembered as Drummond. And yet they were one. Appalling to
contemplate the swift devastating course of moral degeneration, that had
spread like gangrene through all the man's physical and mental fibre....

"Take a good look," Ember advised grimly. "How about that pet myth
thing, now? What price the astute sleuth--eh? Perhaps you'd like to take
a few more funny cracks at my simple faith in hallucinations."

"Good God!" said Whitaker in a low voice, unable to remove his gaze from
Drummond.

"I had a notion he'd be hanging round," Ember went on; "I thought I saw
somebody hiding in the woods this afternoon; and then I was sure I saw
him skulking round the edges of the clearing, after dinner. So I set Sum
Fat to watch, drove back to the village to mislead him, left my car
there and walked back. And sure enough--!"

Without comment, Whitaker, unable to stand any longer without
discomfort, hobbled to a chair and sat down.

"Well?" Drummond demanded harshly in a quavering snarl. "Now that you've
got me, what're you going to do with me?"

There was a high, hysterical accent in his voice that struck
unpleasantly on Ember's ear. He cocked his head to one side, studying
the man intently.

Drummond flung himself a step away from the table, paused, and again
faced his captors with bravado.

"Well?" he cried again. "Well?"

Ember nodded toward Whitaker. "Ask him," he said briefly.

Whitaker shook his head. It was difficult to think how to deal with this
trapped animal, so wildly different from the cultivated gentleman he
always had in mind when he thought of Drummond. The futility of
attempting to deal with him according to any code recognized by men of
honour was wretchedly apparent.

"Drummond," he said slowly, "I wish to God you hadn't done this thing."

Drummond laughed discordantly. "Keep your mealy-mouthed compassion for
yourself," he retorted, sneering. "I'm no worse than you, only I got
caught." He added in a low tone, quivering with uncontrollable hatred:
"Damn you!"

Whitaker gave a gesture of despair. "If you'd only been content to keep
out of the way...! If only you'd let me alone--"

"Then _you_ let Sara Law alone, d'you hear?"

Surprised, Whitaker paused before replying. "Please understand," he said
quietly, "that Mrs. Whitaker is seeking a divorce from me. After that,
if she has any use f