ir epicurean guile and deceit
from the beginning.

He consulted his watch. He judged that a quarter after nine, or perhaps
nine-thirty, would be about the psychological time for his entry upon
the scene, with his contribution of an unforeseen climax to the drama.

It was not yet seven, and it would be as well to wait here while the
storm, which made the old ice-house tremble about his head, rode out its
initial fury.

His judgment proved good for before it was necessary to start, the main
violence of wind and rain had abated into gusts and desultory showers.
Along the way he encountered evidences of its force, in fallen branches
and broken trees; and in one place, as he crossed a road, he ran into a
hanging strand of telephone wire pulled down by broken timber.

As he drew near his own house his wrath mounted to the cold and
inflexible bitterness of arctic destruction, but his mind seemed to
clarify into a preternatural alertness such as the absinthe-drinker
fancies gives a razor edge to his thought functions. Like the keenness
of absinthe it was hallucination. The tremendous thrill of a madness
that had been cumulative through months and had finally reached the
fulfillment of action, was vitalizing him.

When the walls of his house bulked at last before his eyes, he paused
and began to take an accounting. One detail somewhat dismayed him. The
entire lower floor was dark, and since it was yet early he had not
expected that to be the case. The sudden fear attacked him that he was
too late.

He made a complete and careful circuit of the grounds, noting with the
fancied shrewdness of his mood every circumstance upon which a meaning
might be placed.

The blankness of the first floor was merely indicative--but when he
noted also the dark sash of Farquaharson's window indicativeness assumed
a more sinister emphasis. It was reasonable to infer that unlighted
rooms were unoccupied rooms and conversely, it was ominously significant
that the wide window of his wife's bedroom gave the single frame of
illumination that broke the darkness of the four walls.

For a better survey, he retreated to a bit of high ground at the right
of the house which afforded a narrow glimpse into Conscience's room,
though at an unsatisfactory range.

From this natural watch-tower he could make out the seated figure of his
wife at her desk and from time co time she turned her head, as one
might, who speaks to, or listens to, a companion withi