up his courage to enter the house again. Then he noticed a figure coming
slowly up the road and keeping close to the palings.

The full realization of what he had done broke in upon him when he found
himself turning to fly from the approach of the constable. The wet cape
glistening in the lamplight, the slow, heavy step, made him tremble.
Suppose the thing upstairs was not quite dead and should cry out?
Suppose the constable should think it strange for him to be standing
there and follow him in? He assumed a careless attitude, which did not
feel careless, and as the man passed bade him good-night, and made a
remark as to the weather.

Ere the sound of the other's footsteps had gone quite out of hearing,
he turned and entered the house again before the sense of companionship
should have quite departed. The first flight of stairs was lighted by
the gas in the hall, and he went up slowly. Then he struck a match and
went up steadily, past the library door, and with firm fingers turned on
the gas in his bedroom and lit it. He opened the window a little way,
and sitting down on his bed, tried to think.

He had got eight hours. Eight hours and two hundred pounds in small
notes. He opened his safe and took out all the loose cash it contained,
and walking about the room, gathered up and placed in his pockets such
articles of jewellery as he possessed.

The first horror had now to some extent passed, and was succeeded by the
fear of death.

With this fear on him he sat down again and tried to think out the first
moves in that game of skill of which his life was the stake. He had