nd Mr. Marston entered the
apartment. It was now dark, and the servant, unbidden, placed candles
upon the table. Without answering one word to Dr. Danvers' greeting,
Marston sat down, as it seemed, in agitated abstraction. Removing his hat
suddenly (for he had not even made this slight homage to the laws of
courtesy), he looked round with a care-worn, fiery eye, and a pale
countenance, and said--

"We are quite alone, Dr. Danvers--no one anywhere near?"

Dr. Danvers assured him that all was secure. After a long and agitated
pause, Marston said--

"You remember Merton's confession. He admitted his intention to kill
Berkley, but denied that he was the actual murderer. He spoke truth--no
one knew it better than I; for I am the murderer."

Dr. Danvers was so shocked and overwhelmed that he was utterly
unable to speak.

"Aye, sir, in point of law and of morals, literally and honestly, the
murderer of Wynston Berkley. I am resolved you shall know it all. Make
what use of it you will--I care for nothing now, but to get rid of the
d----d, unsustainable secret, and that is done. I did not intend to kill
the scoundrel when I went to his room; but with the just feelings of
exasperation with which I regarded him, it would have been wiser had I
avoided the interview; and I meant to have done so. But his candle was
burning; I saw the light through the door, and went in. It was his evil
fortune to indulge in his old strain of sardonic impertinence. He
provoked me; I struck him--he struck me again--and with his own dagger I
stabbed him three times. I did not know what I had done; I could not
believe it. I felt neither remorse nor sorrow--why should I?--but the
thing was horrible, astounding. There he sat in the corner of his
cushioned chair, with the old fiendish smile on still. Sir, I never
thought that any human shape could look so dreadful. I don't know how
long I stayed there, freezing with horror and detestation, and yet
unable to take my eyes from the face. Did you see it in the coffin? Sir,
there was a sneer of triumph on it that was diabolic and prophetic."

Marston was fearfully agitated as he spoke, and repeatedly wiped from his
face the cold sweat that gathered there.

"I could not leave the room by the back stairs," he resumed, "for the
valet slept in the intervening chamber. I felt such an appalled antipathy
to the body, that I could scarcely muster courage to pass it. But, sir, I
am not easily cowed--I mastered th