When he had learned all that he wished to know he would be free from the
present feeling of terrible obsession which paralyzed his movements to
the extent of endangering his own safely.

He was bound to look upon his victim once again: an inexplicable and
titanic force compelled him to that. Mayhap, that same force would
enable him to keep his nerves under control when, presently, he should
be face to face with the dead.

Face to face? ... Good God! ...

Yet neither fear nor remorse haunted him. It was only curosity, and, at
one thought, a nameless horror! ... Not at the thought of murder ...
there he had no compunction, but at that of the terrible deed which from
instinct of self-protection had perforce to succeed the graver crime.

The weight of those chalk boulders seemed still to weigh against the
muscles of his back. He felt that Sisyphus-like he was forever rolling,
rolling a gigantic stone which, failing of its purpose--recoiled on him,
rolling back down a precipitous incline, and crushing him beneath its
weight ... only to release him again ... to leave him free to endure the
same torture over and over again ... and yet again ... forever the same
weight ... forever the self-same, intolerable agony....

CHAPTER XXXV

THE SMITH'S FORGE

Up to the hour of his departure from Acol Court, Sir Marmaduke had been
convinced that neither his sister-in-law nor Lady Sue had heard of the
news which had set the whole of Thanet in commotion. Acol Court lies
very isolated, well off the main Canterbury Road, and just for two days
and a half Master Hymn-of-Praise Busy had contrived to hold his tongue.

Most of the village gossips, too, met at the local public bars, and had
had up to now no time to wander as far as the Court, nor any reason to
do so, seeing that Master Busy was always to be found at Prospect Inn
and always ready to discuss the mystery in all its bearings, with anyone
who would share a pint of ale with him.

Sir Marmaduke had taken jealous care only to meet the ladies at
meal-time, and under penalty of immediate dismissal had forbidden
Hymn-of-Praise to speak to the serving-wench of the all-absorbing topic.

So far Master Busy had obeyed, but at the last moment, just before
starting for Acol village, Sir Marmaduke had caught sight of Mistress
Charity talking to the stableman in the yard. Something in the wench's
eyes told him--with absolute certainty that she had just heard of the
murder.

T