therefore, come to an end, and I remained the
sole survivor--of and for what?

I dare say that my nerves had been somewhat weakened by my two days'
fast, or else it was the effect of Jeckley's cocktail on an otherwise
empty stomach. Whatever the cause, I suddenly became conscious that I
was passing into a state of high mental tension; I wanted to scream, to
beat impotently upon the air; Jeckley would have put it that I was
within an ace of flying off the handle.

A deafening clash of clanging metal smote my ears. It should have been
the finishing touch, and it was, but not after the fashion that might
have been expected. As though by magic, the horrible tension relaxed;
my nerves again took command of the situation; I felt as cool and
collected as at any previous moment in my life.

In the centre of the room stood a heavy table of some East-Indian
wood--teak, I think, they call it. I could have sworn that there was
nothing whatever upon this table when I entered the room; now I saw
three objects lying there. I walked up and examined them. As they lay
towards me, the first was a ten-thousand-dollar bill, the second a
loaded revolver, caliber .44, the third an envelope of heavy white
paper directed to me, Winston Thorp. The letter was brief and formal;
it read:

"Mr. Indiman presents his compliments to Mr. Thorp and requests the
honor of his company at dinner, Tuesday, March the thirtieth, at nine
o'clock.

"4020 Madison Avenue."

Dishonor, death, and dinner--a curious trio to choose between. Yet to a
man in my present position each of them appealed in its own way, and
I'm not ashamed to confess it. Perhaps the choice I made may seem
inevitable, but what if you had seen Bingham's face as I did, with the
arc light full upon it? It was the remembrance of that which made me
hesitate; twice I drew my hand away and looked at the money and the
pistol.

Through the open door came a ravishing odor, that of a filet a la
Chateaubriand; the purely animal instincts reasserted themselves, and I
picked up the gardenia blossom that lay beside the letter and stuck it
into the button-hole of my dinner-jacket. I looked down at the table,
and it seemed to me that the ten-thousand-dollar note and the pistol
had disappeared. But what of that, what did anything matter now; I was
going to dine--to dine!

I walked up-stairs, guided by that delicious, that heavenly odor, and
entered the dining-room in the rear, without the smallest hes