ith him."

"Why, I cannot even speak to him!"

"Oh, he is accustomed to make much out of a few words; and I would go
with you."

"But what is the occasion of all this? How can he have taken to drink in
so short a time?"

"A man can drink himself into a pretty queer state in a very short time
when he sets his mind to it," Edwards said. "He has given up his work
altogether, and is steadily boozing away the little savings he had made.
He has gone back to his blood and kill, too; wants some one to go with
him to murder that fellow out in Russia who first of all took his wife,
and then beat him and set dogs on him. The fact is, Calabressa's cure
has gone all to bits."

"It is a pity. The unfortunate wretch has had enough trouble. But what
is the cause of it?"

"It is rather difficult to explain," said Edwards with some
embarrassment. "One can only guess, for his brain is muddled, and he
maunders. You know Calabressa's flowery, poetical interpretation. It was
Miss Lind, in fact, who had worked a miracle. Well, there was something
in it. She was kind to him, after he had been cuffed about Europe, and a
sort of passion of gratitude took possession of him. Then he was led to
believe at that time that--that he might be of service to her or her
friends, and he gave up his projects of revenge altogether--he was ready
for any sacrifice--and, in fact, there was a project--" Edwards glanced
at his companion; but Brand happened at that moment to be looking out of
the window.

"Well, you see, all that fell through; and he had to come back to
England disappointed; then there was no Calabressa to keep him up to his
resolutions: besides that, he found out--how, I do not know--that Miss
Lind had left London."

"Oh, he found that out?"

"Apparently. And he says he is of no further use to anybody; and all he
wants is to kill the man Michaieloff, and then make an end of himself."

Brand rose at once.

"We must go and see the unfortunate devil, Edwards. His brain never was
steady, you know, and I suppose even two or three days' hard drinking
has made him wild again. And just as I had prepared a little surprise
for him!"

"What?" Edwards asked, as he opened the door.

"I have made him a little bequest that would have produced him about
twenty pounds a year, to pay his rent. It will be no kindness to give it
to him until we see him straight again."

But Edwards pushed the door to again, and said in a low voice,

"Of course, M