any more to concentrate.
Yet he knew that there were certain things he must face for the sake of
Nicky, certain things he must ensure. He made a violent effort and
forced his mind and body to respond to his will. To him, on the far rim
of life, it might be vouchsafed to see how little certain things
mattered after all; but there was Nicky, still in the midst of it, with
a mind that lived more in the present than Ishmael's had ever done. It
was important for Nicky's peace of mind that he should never know he was
in fact, if not in law, what so many of his family had been, what he
would have thought of as "base-born." And Nicky so disliked Archelaus
and all he stood for.... Nicky's happiness--that was what mattered now,
what must be ensured.

Slowly Ishmael turned in his chair and faced Archelaus once more. He
bent down and spoke into his ear, but Archelaus did not stir beyond a
muttering in his sleep. As he looked at him Ishmael saw how easy it
would be to slip a pillow over his mouth and hold it there till he had
been put beyond the reach to hurt Nicky. Yet he felt no temptation to do
it, not because of any scruple of conscience--the suggestion did not get
as far as arousing that--but simply for the reason that most people do
not commit crime, because it does not seem a possible thing in the
scheme of life as it is normally known. Things horribly unbelievable,
out of the ordinary course, did happen in life, even as this thing that
had happened to him; but the angle of life was not thereby changed, it
was still the things that were abnormal. Ishmael saw the impossibleness
of killing his brother even while he saw the possibility.

"Archelaus!..." he said again, speaking clearly and insistently. "You
are not to tell anyone else. You are not to tell Nicky. Do you hear me!"

Archelaus stirred and opened his eyes; they stared at Ishmael for a long
moment without recognition. Then a flame of understanding came into
their dimmed look.

"I'm come home to tell my son," he said. "He'm my flesh and blood; I'm
come home to tell en."

"No--no!" Ishmael put out his hand to take the letters which Archelaus
had gathered into his grasp again. With surprising strength Archelaus
rolled his body over on to them, and his voice was raised in a cry
before Ishmael could stop him. At the same moment a step sounded in the
corridor. It was Nicky, doubtless anxious, coming along for a third time
to listen if all were well. At the cry he hurri