estored him, and he began his round of
reflections again.

"That French fellow who tried it this way in Scotland was found out," he
said; "and--" He did not like, even in his mind, to add that the "French
fellow, consequently, suffered the extreme penalty of the law. But then
he was a fool, and boasted beforehand, and bungled it infernally. Still,
it's not absolutely safe: the other plan I thought of first was better.
By gad! I wish I could be sure she had not taken the stuff. Perhaps she
hasn't. Anyway, she must be asleep again now; and, besides, there are
the other oranges to be substituted for those left in the room, if she
_has_ taken it. I _must_ go and see. I don't like the job."

He filled his pockets with five unpoisoned oranges, and the skin of a
sixth, and so crept upstairs. His situation was, perhaps, rather novel.
With murder in his remorseless heart, he yet hoped against hope, out of
his very poltroonery, that murder had not been done. At the girl's door
he waited and listened, his face horribly agitated and shining wet. All
was silent. His heart was sounding hoarsely within him, like a dry pump:
he heard it, so noisy and so distinct that he almost feared it might
wake the sleeper. If only, after all, she had not touched the fruit!

Then he took the door-handle in his clammy grasp; he had to cover it
with a handkerchief to get a firm hold. He turned discreetly, and the
door was pushed open in perfect stillness, except for that dreadful
husky thumping of his own heart. At this moment the postman's hard knock
at the door nearly made him cry out aloud. Then he entered; a dreadful
visitor, had anyone seen him. She did not see him; she was asleep, sound
asleep; in the dirty brown twilight of a London winter day, he could
make out that much. He did not dare draw close enough to observe her
face minutely, or bend down and listen for her breath. And the oranges!
Eagerly he looked at them. There were only five of them. Surely--no! a
sixth had fallen on the floor, where it was lying. With a great sigh of
relief he picked up all the six oranges, put them in his pockets, and,
as shrinkingly as he had come-yet shaking his hand at the girl, and
cursing his own cowardice under his breath--he stole down stairs, opened
the dining-room door, and advanced into the blind, empty dusk.

"Now I'll settle with you!" came a voice out of the dimness; and the
start wrought so wildly on his nerves, excited to the utmost degree as
t