convenience, General."

"The law? The law?" The General's sudden fright was pitiful. He dropped
back a step under the shock of the thing, and all the colour drained out
of his lips and cheeks. "What utter absurdity! What have I to do with
the law? What have you, Mr. Barch?"

"Cleek, if you want the truth of it, General--Cleek of the Forty Faces,
Cleek of Scotland Yard. It's time to lay aside the mask of 'Philip
Barch' forever."

"Cleek? Cleek?" The General's cry was scarcely more than a shrill
whisper. "God! You that man? You? And all the time you have been here in
my house. Oh, my God! is this the end?"

"Yes, I fear it is, General," said Cleek in reply, as he stepped past
him and moved into the room. "If you dance to the devil's music in your
youth, my friend, be sure he will come round with the hat in the days of
your age! Last night one of the follies of your youth came to its
inevitable end: last night a man was murdered who---- Stop! Doors won't
lead a man out of his retribution. Come away from that one. The
gentleman who is with me, General, is Mr. Maverick Narkom,
superintendent of Scotland Yard. Isn't that enough to show you how
impossible it is to evade what is to be? Besides, why should you want to
get out of the room? It's not your life that's in danger, it's your
honour; and there's no need to make any attempt to prevent either your
wife or your son learning that when both are deep in the drugged sleep
to which you sent them."

"My God!" The General collapsed into a chair.

"That's right," said Cleek. "Sit down to it, General, for it is likely
to be a strength-sapping time. I've something to say to you; and Mr.
Narkom has still something to hear. But first, for the sake of
emergencies, and to have things handy if required, allow me to take a
certain precaution."

As he spoke he moved over to the window, and switched the curtains over
them.

"General," he said, facing about again, "the laws of society, the laws
which prevail in civilized communities, are pretty rotten things. If a
woman errs in her youth she pays for it all her whole life long--in
sorrow, in tears, in never-ceasing disgrace. If the same law prevailed
for both sexes, and men had to pay for the sins of their youth as women
must for theirs, how many of them think you would be out of sackcloth
to-day? Atonement is for the man, never for the woman. For Eve, youth
must stand always as a time of purity, unspotted by a single sin. For
Ada