tes more information than I have yet been able to use.

Then a fresh apprehension assailed me. Suppose Bellairs had given me the
slip? Suppose he was now rolling on the road to Stallbridge-le-Carthew?
or perhaps there already and laying before a very white-laced auditor
his threats and propositions? A hasty person might have instantly
pursued. Whatever I am, I am not hasty, and I was aware of three grave
objections. In the first place, I could not be certain that Bellairs was
gone. In the second, I had no taste whatever for a long drive at that
hour of the night and in so merciless a rain. In the third, I had no idea
how I was to get admitted if I went, and no idea what I should say if I
got admitted. "In short," I concluded, "the whole situation is the merest
farce. You have thrust yourself in where you had no business and have no
power. You would be quite as useful in San Francisco; far happier in
Paris; and being (by the wrath of God) at Stallbridge-Minster, the wisest
thing is to go quietly to bed." On the way to my room I saw (in a flash)
that which I ought to have done long ago, and which it was now too late
to think of--written to Carthew, I mean, detailing the facts and
describing Bellairs, letting him defend himself if he were able, and
giving him time to flee if he were not. It was the last blow to my
self-respect; and I flung myself into my bed with contumely.

I have no guess what hour it was when I was wakened by the entrance of
Bellairs carrying a candle. He had been drunk, for he was bedaubed with
mire from head to foot; but he was now sober, and under the empire of
some violent emotion which he controlled with difficulty. He trembled
visibly; and more than once, during the interview which followed, tears
suddenly and silently overflowed his cheeks.

"I have to ask your pardon, sir, for this untimely visit," he said. "I
make no defence, I have no excuse, I have disgraced myself, I am
properly punished; I appear before you to appeal to you in mercy for the
most trifling aid, or, God help me! I fear I may go mad."

"What on earth is wrong?" I asked.

"I have been robbed," he said. "I have no defence to offer; it was of my
own fault, I am properly punished."

"But, gracious goodness me!" I cried, "who is there to rob you in a
place like this?"

"I can form no opinion," he replied. "I have no idea. I was lying in a
ditch inanimate. This is a degrading confession, sir; I can only say in
self-defence tha