mortal hatred, but it had
cooled, and at length he had admitted to himself, angrily, reluctantly,
that Ravengar had escaped the ordeal of the vault. And this being
decided, what could he do with Ravengar? Retain him under lock and key?
Why? To what end? Such illegal captivities were not practicable for long
in London. Besides, they were absurd, melodramatic, and futile. As the
moments passed and the fumes of a murderous intoxication gradually
cleared away, Hugo had regained his natural, sagacious perspective, and
he had perceived that there was only one thing to do with Ravengar.

He let Ravengar go. He showed him politely out.

It was an anti-climax, but the incalculable and peremptory processes of
the heart often result in an anti-climax.

The night was cold and damp, as the morning had been, and Hugo shivered,
but not with cold. He shivered in the mere exciting eagerness of
anticipation. He had chosen the drawing-room window because the panes
were very large. He found it perfectly simple, by means of the treacled
cardboard which he carried, to force in the pane noiselessly. He pushed
aside the blind, and crept within the room. So simple was it to violate
the will of a dead man, and the solemnly affixed seals of his executor!
He had arranged that the pane should be replaced before dawn, and the
new putty darkened to match the rest. Thus, no trace would remain of the
burglarious entry. No seal on door or window would have been broken.

He stood upright in the drawing-room, restored the blind and the heavy
curtains to their positions, and then ventured to press the button of
his lamp. He saw once more the vast outlines of the room which he had
last seen under such circumstances of woe. The great pieces of furniture
were enveloped in holland covers, and resembled formless ghosts in the
pale illumination of the lamp. He shivered again. He was afraid now,
with the fear of the unknown, the forbidden, and the withheld. Why was
he there? What could he hope to discover?

In answer to these questions, he replied:

'Why did Francis Tudor order that the flat should be closed? He must
have had some reason. I will find it out. It is essential to my peace of
mind to know. I meant to commit murder to-day; I have only committed
burglary. I ought to congratulate myself and sing for joy, instead of
feeling afraid.'

So he reassured his spirit as he stepped carefully into the midst of the
holland-covered and moveless ghosts. On th