e near Regent's Park last night, and when I came away
the fancy took me to walk home instead of taking a hansom. It was a
clear pleasant night enough, and after a few minutes I had the streets
pretty much to myself. It's a curious thing, Austin, to be alone in
London at night, the gas-lamps stretching away in perspective, and the
dead silence, and then perhaps the rush and clatter of a hansom on the
stones, and the fire starting up under the horse's hoofs. I walked along
pretty briskly, for I was feeling a little tired of being out in the
night, and as the clocks were striking two I turned down Ashley Street,
which, you know, is on my way. It was quieter than ever there, and the
lamps were fewer; altogether, it looked as dark and gloomy as a forest
in winter. I had done about half the length of the street when I heard a
door closed very softly, and naturally I looked up to see who was abroad
like myself at such an hour. As it happens, there is a street lamp close
to the house in question, and I saw a man standing on the step. He had
just shut the door and his face was towards me, and I recognized Crashaw
directly. I never knew him to speak to, but I had often seen him, and I
am positive that I was not mistaken in my man. I looked into his face
for a moment, and then--I will confess the truth--I set off at a good
run, and kept it up till I was within my own door.'

'Why?'

'Why? Because it made my blood run cold to see that man's face. I could
never have supposed that such an infernal medley of passions could have
glared out of any human eyes; I almost fainted as I looked. I knew I had
looked into the eyes of a lost soul, Austin, the man's outward form
remained, but all hell was within it. Furious lust, and hate that was
like fire, and the loss of all hope and horror that seemed to shriek
aloud to the night, though his teeth were shut; and the utter blackness
of despair. I am sure he did not see me; he saw nothing that you or I
can see, but he saw what I hope we never shall. I do not know when he
died; I suppose in an hour, or perhaps two, but when I passed down
Ashley Street and heard the closing door, that man no longer belonged to
this world; it was a devil's face I looked upon.'

There was an interval of silence in the room when Villiers ceased
speaking. The light was failing, and all the tumult of an hour ago was
quite hushed. Austin had bent his head at the close of the story, and
his hand covered his eyes.

'W