urse, quite obvious that she had had nothing to do with his sad end.

He looked about him, with an air of fine melancholy, at the passers-by.
Little they knew of the terrible tragedy that was even now preparing in
their midst!

He felt almost happy again as he turned this solution over and over
again. Some people would be sorry--Christopher, Lizzie Rand, and Rachel:
above all, it must be heavy upon the consciences of the Duchess and her
wretched children. They had driven him to his death and must bear the
blame to the grave and beyond.

Very faintly the rolling of thunder could be heard as the storm
approached the town.

He was standing outside the Oxford Music Hall, and he thought that he
would go inside for a little time that he might avoid the rain ... and
then upon that followed the reflection that it did not matter whether he
was wet or no--he would soon be dead.

Faintly behind these gloomy resolves some voice seemed to tell him that
if he could only pass safely through this night fortune would again be
kind to him. "Wait," something told him. "Be patient for once in your
life".... But no, to wait any more was impossible. Some fine action,
some splendid defiance or heroic defence, here and now ... otherwise he
would show the world that he had courage, at least, to die. Most of his
impetuous follies had their origin in his conviction that the eyes of
the world were always upon him.

He paid his money and walked into the circle promenade. Behind him was a
bar at which several stout gentlemen and ladies were happily
conversational. In front of him a crowd of men and women leaned forward
over the back of the circle and listened to the entertainment.

On the stage, in a circle of brilliant light, a thin man with a
melancholy face, a top hat and pepper-and-salt trousers was singing--

"Straike me pink and straike me blue,
Straike me purple and crimson too
I'll be there,
Lottie dear,
Down by the old Canteen."

"Now," said the gentleman, "once more. Let's 'ave it--all together."

There was a moment's pause, then the orchestra began very softly and, in
a kind of ecstasy the crowd sang--

"Straike me pink and straike me blue,
Straike me purple and crimson too," etc.

Breton sat down on a little velvet seat near the bar and gloomily looked
about him. Did they only realize, these people, the tragedy that was so
close to them, then would they very swiftly ceas