d up and up and
up the narrow staircase, of which every point remained fixed in his
mind; or that waking, whatever his task, or wherever he might be, alone
or in company, in his parlour or in the Town House, he still fell
a-dreaming of the room and the box--the room and the box that held his
life?

Had this been the worst! But it was not. There were times, bitter times,
dark hours, when the pains were upon him, and he saw his fate clear
before him; for he had known men die of the disease which held him in
its clutches, and he knew how they had died. And then he must needs lock
himself into his room that other eyes might not witness the passionate
fits of revolt, of rage and horror, and weak weeping, into which the
knowledge cast him. And out of which he presently came back to--_the
house_. His life lay there, in that room, in that house, and he could
not come at it! He could not come at it! But he would! He would!

It issued in that always; in some plan or scheme for gaining possession
of the philtre. Some of the plans that occurred to him were wild and
desperate; dangerous and hopeless on the face of them. Others were
merely violent; others again, of which craft was the mainspring, held
out a prospect of success. For a whole day the notion of arresting
Basterga on a charge of treason, and seizing the steel casket together
with his papers, was uppermost. It seemed feasible, and was feasible;
nay, it was more than feasible, it was easy; for already there were
rumours of the man abroad, and his name had been mentioned at the
council table. The Syndic had only to give the word, and the arrest
would be made, the search instituted, the papers and casket seized. Nay,
if he did not give the word, it was possible that others might.

But when he thought of that step, that irrevocable step, he knew that he
would not have the courage to take it. For if Basterga had so much as
two minutes' notice, if his ear so much as caught the tread of those who
came to take him, he might, in pure malignity, pour the medicine on the
floor, or he might so hide it as to defy search. And at the thought--at
the thought of the destruction of that wherein lay his only chance of
life, his only hope of seeing the sun and feeling again the balmy breath
of spring, the Syndic trembled and shook and sweated with rage and fear.
No, he would not have the courage. He would not dare. For a week and
more after the thought occurred to him, he dared not approach