mockery of laughter, their diabolical suggestion. Horrible? I shall go
mad if this continues."

He screwed his face up and looked about the room as though he expected
to see some haunting shape.

"This influence in this house induced by my experiment, has killed in a
flash, in a sudden stroke, the sources of my humour, and though I still
go on writing funny tales--I have a certain name you know--my
inspiration has dried up, and much of what I write I have to burn--yes,
doctor, to burn, before any one sees it."

"As utterly alien to your own mind and personality?"

"Utterly! As though some one else had written it--"

"Ah!"

"And shocking!" He passed his hand over his eyes a moment and let the
breath escape softly through his teeth. "Yet most damnably clever in the
consummate way the vile suggestions are insinuated under cover of a kind
of high drollery. My stenographer left me of course--and I've been
afraid to take another--"

John Silence got up and began to walk about the room leisurely without
speaking; he appeared to be examining the pictures on the wall and
reading the names of the books lying about. Presently he paused on the
hearthrug, with his back to the fire, and turned to look his patient
quietly in the eyes. Pender's face was grey and drawn; the hunted
expression dominated it; the long recital had told upon him.