e, to the gratification
of the only passion left me. When I think of the fair daughters and the
fair sons of the comfortable middle class, Jim, I have exquisite hopes.'
Ryder rolled the cigar between his fingers, and smiled at his brother in
a gentle, kindly way. 'If I can bring an honoured son of reputable
parents to taste the joys of the hulks and feel the caresses of the
leaded cat, I shall, I feel, be almost reconciled to my past. They talk
of stopping transportation and abolishing the system. I never cease to
pray that the system may be spared to us. If it is done away with before
I have gratified the magnificent malice I have stored up in this breast,
morsel by morsel, hoarding it with the greed of a miser, I am afraid I
shall lose my faith in a just Providence.'

'This is simply hideous exclaimed Jim. 'But you are joking. You speak
without bitterness.

'I speak without bitterness because I would not waste any jot of it. When
my moments come (and I have had a few) I desire to experience the perfect
emotion. Revenge is only sweet when it opens the flood-gates of a pent-up
hatred.'

'Richard!' cried the young man, 'for God's sake put this black evil out
of your heart! Here is a clean world--come into it, take part in it with
the good men. Your soul is poisoned--purge it. Open your eyes to the
sun. I'll help you!'

Ryder placed his cigar on the log beside him, and turning back the left
wrist of the silk undershirt he wore, struck a match, and showed Jim a
broad red wheal encircling the arm like the scar of a deep burn.

'Would you like to see my ankle?' he said. 'Or my back? It's a pretty
sight. I am a hunted man. But if I were not, I would not consent to
sacrifice my exquisite desires merely because the sun shines and girls
are merry.'

'But I have been happy. I'll have none of this ugly gospel of hatred and
revenge.'

'Happy! Because you are free for a moment; because you are not treated
quite as a pariah because that black-eyed houri down at the shanty smiles
at you? You'll sicken of this presently. I tell you you must come back to
your healthy hatred. The spirit of revolt is in your blood; the contempt
is with you. I shall win you over.'

Never! Never!'

'Happy! Son of a mother tortured to death by a Christian people; brother
of the girl driven to suicide by hate; brother of the man whom society
set in hell.' Ryder's voice was low and musical, and his words were more
dreadful than curses. 'You have no