David Allen at once proceeded to the Hall, which he had not seen since
the day he left it to attend the trial. He passed quickly through the
familiar apartments until he entered the locked room on the first floor
of the south wing. There on the bed lay the body of Heaton, most of the
colour gone from the face, but breathing regularly, if almost
imperceptibly, like a mechanical wax-figure.

If a watcher had been in the room, he would have seen the colour slowly
return to the face and the sleeper gradually awaken, at last rising
from the bed.

Allen, in the body of Heaton, at first felt very uncomfortable, as a
man does who puts on an ill-fitting suit of clothes. The limitations
caused by the wearing of a body also discommoded him. He looked
carefully around the room. It was plainly furnished. A desk in the
corner he found contained the MS. of a book prepared for the printer,
all executed with the neat accuracy of a scientific man. Above the
desk, pasted against the wall, was a sheet of paper headed:

"What to do if I am found here apparently dead." Underneath were
plainly written instructions. It was evident that Heaton had taken no
one into his confidence.

It is well if you go in for revenge to make it as complete as possible.
Allen gathered up the MS., placed it in the grate, and set a match to
it. Thus he at once destroyed his enemy's chances of posthumous renown,
and also removed evidence that might, in certain contingencies, prove
Heaton's insanity.

Unlocking the door, he proceeded down the stairs, where he met a
servant who told him luncheon was ready. He noticed that the servant
was one whom he had discharged, so he came to the conclusion that
Heaton had taken back all the old retainers who had applied to him when
the result of the trial became public. Before lunch was over he saw
that some of his own servants were also there still.

"Send the gamekeeper to me," said Allen to the servant.

Brown came in, who had been on the estate for twenty years
continuously, with the exception of the few months after Allen had
packed him off.

"What pistols have I, Brown?"

"Well, sir, there's the old Squire's duelling pistols, rather out of
date, sir; then your own pair and that American revolver."

"Is the revolver in working order?"

"Oh yes, sir."

"Then bring it to me and some cartridges."

When Brown returned with the revolver his master took it and examined
it.

"Be careful, sir," said Brown, anxio