were closed again, and
the street relapsed into complete silence.

The Rector had good eyes, trained to seeing far into the darkest nights.
From his corner, the door of the house was quite visible. There he would
stay till the sun came up, if need be. He would wait for his brother!
His brother? No, for that dog of a Tonet! When the wretch came out ...
what a pity his knife wasn't handy! But he could kill him somehow,
either strangle him, or perhaps pound his head in with a stone.
Afterwards, he would go in and fix the woman, rip her open with the
butcher-knife, or something of the sort. There was time to think of
that. Something better, even, might occur to him while he was waiting.

Crouching at his corner there, the Rector began to think of all the
tortures he had ever heard of, gloating over each new marvel of cruelty
as he applied it, in foretaste, to the guilty pair, finally coming down
to burning them alive on the open beach over a slow fire made of timber
from the old boats. But how cold it was getting to be! And how sick he
was feeling! The mad rage that had come over him at sight of the "cat"
was passing, leaving him in a condition of general weakness and
lassitude. He could barely lift his hand. The dampness of the night was
getting into his bones, and his empty stomach gave him waves of nausea.
Suffering did take hold of a fellow! How sick! How sick! Another reason
for killing that pair of good-for-nothings! In the end they would finish
him with worry and pain! He had grown old over night. It had all
happened since sundown. And there he was, a strong man, unable to lift a
finger!

One! Two! Three! Three o'clock! How time dragged on. But he did not
move from his ambush, though he felt his limbs stiffening and his brain
begin to fag. The thoughts of dire punishments had passed from his mind.
That, indeed, had become a blank. What was he doing there? He couldn't
quite remember at times--all his energies were so centered in his eyes,
which not for a second even left that door of his house.

Half-past three had long since tolled when the Rector thought he heard
the slight grating of a latch, and saw his door swing open. A form
appeared on the threshold and stayed there for a second or two, as
though the person were studying the street in both directions to see if
any one were watching. There was another squeak, and a slight thud as
the door closed. The Rector stood painfully up, his joints quite numb
from the