rayer and a murderer, and every refutation that he
could produce turned to a brand in his hands and branded him yet more
deeply. He writhed in torment. For ever, in every hour of every day and
night, he would carry the memory of that fierce and sweating face
pressing towards him across the table in that court. No! It was another
face that passed before that passionate countenance and stood like flame
before his eyes. Twyning! Twyning, Twyning, Twyning! The prompter, the
goader of that passionate man's passion, the instigater and instrument
of this his utter and appalling destruction. Twyning, Twyning, Twyning!
He ground his teeth upon the name. He twisted in his chair upon the
thought. Twyning, Twyning, Twyning! Knock, knock, knock! Ah, that
knocking, that knocking! Something was going to give way in a minute. It
must be abated. It must. Something would give way else. A feverish
desire to smoke came upon him. He felt in his pockets for his cigarette
case. He had not got it. He thought after it. He remembered that he had
started for Brighton without it, discovered there that he had left it
behind. He started to hunt for it. It must be in this room. It was not
to be seen in the room. Where? He remembered a previous occasion of
searching for it like this. When? Ah, when Effie had told him she had
found it lying about and had put it--of all absurd places for a
cigarette case--in the back of the clock. Ten to one she had put it
there again now. The very last thing she had done for him! Effie! He
went quickly to the clock and opened it. Good! It was there. He snatched
it up. Something else there. A folded paper. His name pencilled on it:
Mr. Sabre.

She had left a message for him!

She had left a message for him! That cigarette case business had been
deliberately done!

He fumbled the paper open. He could not control his fingers. He fumbled
it open. He began to read. Tears stood in his eyes. Pitiful, oh,
pitiful. He turned the page,--knock, knock, knock! The knocking suddenly
ceased. He threw up his hand. He gave a very loud cry. A single note. A
note of extraordinary exultation: "Ha!"

He crushed the paper between his hands. He cried aloud: "Into my hands!
Into my hands thou hast delivered him!"

He opened the paper and read again, his hand shaking, and now a most
terrible trembling upon him.

Dear Mr. Sabre,

I wanted you to go to Brighton so I could be alone to do what I am
just going to do. I see n