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day。
〃There was something else。〃 We were discussing the case in my
friend's chambers。 His brief of eleven years ago was open before
him。 He was pacing up and down with his hands in his pockets；
thinking as he talked。 〃Something that never came out。 There was a
curious feeling she gave me in that moment when sentence was
pronounced upon her。 It was as if； instead of being condemned； she
had triumphed。 Acting！ If she had acted during the trial；
pretended remorse； even pity； I could have got her off with five
years。 She seemed to be unable to disguise the absolute physical
relief she felt at the thought that he was dead； that his hand would
never again touch her。 There must have been something that had
suddenly been revealed to her； something that had turned her love to
hate。
〃There must be something fine about the man； too。〃 That was another
suggestion that came to him as he stood staring out of the window
across the river。 〃She's paid and has got her receipt； but he is
still 'wanted。' He is risking his neck every evening he watches for
the raising of that blind。〃
His thought took another turn。
〃Yet how could he have let her go through those ten years of living
death while he walked the streets scot free？ Some time during the
trialthe evidence piling up against her day by daywhy didn't he
come forward； if only to stand beside her？ Get himself hanged； if
only out of mere decency？〃
He sat down； took the brief up in his hand without looking at it。
〃Or was that the reward that she claimed？ That he should wait；
keeping alive the one hope that would make the suffering possible to
her？ Yes；〃 he continued； musing； 〃I can see a man who cared for a
woman taking that as his punishment。〃
Now that his interest in the case had been revived he seemed unable
to keep it out of his mind。 Since our joint visit I had once or
twice passed through the street by myself； and on the last occasion
had again seen the raising of the blind。 It obsessed himthe
desire to meet the man face to face。 A handsome； bold； masterful
man； he conceived him。 But there must be something more for such a
woman to have sold her soulalmost； one might sayfor the sake of
him。
There was just one chance of succeeding。 Each time he had come from
the direction of the Edgware Road。 By keeping well out of sight at
the other end of the street； and watching till he entered it； one
might time oneself to come upon him just under the lamp。 He would
hardly be likely to turn and go back； that would be to give himself
away。 He would probably content himself with pretending to be like
ourselves； merely hurrying through； and in his turn watching till we
had disappeared。
Fortune seemed inclined to favour us。 About the usual time the
blind was gently raised； and very soon afterwards there came round
the corner the figure of a man。 We entered the street ourselves a
few seconds later； and it seemed likely that； as we had planned； we
should come face to face with him under the gaslight。 He walked
towards us； stooping and with bent head。 We expected him to pass
the house by。 To our surprise he stopped when he came to it； and
pushed open the gate。 In another moment we should have lost all
chance of seeing anything more of him except his bent back。 With a
couple of strides my friend was behind him。 He laid his hand on the
man's shoulder and forced him to turn round。 It was an old；
wrinkled face with gentle； rather watery eyes。
We were both so taken aback that for a moment we could say nothing。
My friend stammered out an apology about having mistaken the house；
and rejoined me。 At the corner we burst out laughing almost
simultaneously。 And then my friend suddenly stopped and stared at
me。
〃Hepworth's old clerk！〃 he said。 〃Ellenby！〃
* * *
It seemed to him monstrous。 The man had been more than a clerk。
The family had treated him as a friend。 Hepworth's father had set
him up in business。 For the murdered lad he had had a sincere
attachment； he had left that conviction on all of them。 What was
the meaning of it？
A directory was on the mantelpiece。 It was the next afternoon。 I
had called upon him in his chambers。 It was just an idea that came
to me。 I crossed over and opened it； and there was his name；
〃Ellenby and Co。； Ships' Furnishers；〃 in a court off the Minories。
Was he helping her for the sake of his dead mastertrying to get
her away from the man。 But why？ The woman had stood by and watched
the lad murdered。 How could he bear even to look on her again？
Unless there had been that something that had not come out
something he had learnt laterthat excused even that monstrous
callousness of hers。
Yet what could there be？ It had all been so planned； so
cold…blooded。 That shaving in the dining…room！ It was that seemed
most to stick in his throat。 She must have brought him down a
looking…glass； there was not one in the room。 Why couldn't he have
gone upstairs into the bathroom； where Hepworth always shaved
himself； where he would have found everything to his hand？
He had been moving about the room； talking disjointedly as he paced；
and suddenly he stopped and looked at me。
〃Why in the dining…room？〃 he demanded of me。
He was jingling some keys in his pocket。 It was a habit of his when
cross…examining； and I felt as if somehow I knew； and； without
thinkingso it seemed to meI answered him。
〃Perhaps；〃 I said； 〃it was easier to bring a razor down than to
carry a dead man up。〃
He leant with his arms across the table； his eyes glittering with
excitement。
〃Can't you see it？〃 he said。 〃That little back parlour with its
fussy ornaments。 The three of them standing round the table；
Hepworth's hands nervously clutching a chair。 The reproaches； the
taunts； the threats。 Young Hepworthhe struck everyone as a weak
man； a man physically afraidwhite； stammering； not knowing which
way to look。 The woman's eyes turning from one to the other。 That
flash of contempt againshe could not help itfollowed； worse
still； by pity。 If only he could have answered back； held his own！
If only he had not been afraid！ And then that fatal turning away
with a sneering laugh one imagines； the bold； dominating eyes no
longer there to cower him。
〃That must have been the moment。 The bullet； if you remember；
entered through the back of the man's neck。 Hepworth must always
have been picturing to himself this meetingtenants of garden
suburbs do not carry loaded revolvers as a habitdwelling upon it
till he had worked himself up into a frenzy of hate and fear。 Weak
men always fly to extremes。 If there was no other way； he would
kill him。
〃Can't you hear the silence？ After the reverberations had died
away！ And then they are both down on their knees； patting him；
feeling for his heart。 The man must have gone down like a felled
ox； there were no traces of blood on the carpet。 The house is far
from any neighbour； the shot in all probability has not been heard。
If only they can get rid of the body！ The pondnot a hundred yards
away！〃
He reached for the brief； still lying among his papers；