heighten the illusion. Yet it seemed to me then that, dreaming or
waking, this thing with which I was confronted was the last
impossibility. I suppose that I must have stared at him like some
wild creature, for the conversation around us suddenly stopped.
Standing upon the threshold, looking around him with the happy air of
an habitue, I saw this man to whom I owed my presence in Paris, this
man concerning whom I had sworn that if ever I should meet him face to
face my hand should be upon his throat. I remember nothing of my
progress, but I know that I stood before him before he was conscious
even of my presence. I addressed him by name. I believe that even my
voice was not upraised.

"Tapilow!" I said.

He turned sharply towards me. I saw him suddenly stiffen, and I saw
his right hand dart as though by instinct to his trousers pocket. But
I was too quick for him. The blood was surging into my ears. Nothing
in the whole room was visible to me but that pale, handsome face with
the thin lips and dark, full eyes. I saw those eyes contract as though
my hand upon his throat were indeed the touch of Death. I shook him
until his collar broke away and his shirt-front flew open, shook him
until from his limp body there seemed no longer any shadow of
resistance. Then I flung him a little away from me, watching all the
time, though, to see that his hand did not move towards that pocket.

"Tapilow," I cried, "defend yourself, you coward! Do you want me to
strangle you where you stand?"

He came for me then with the frenzy of a man who is in a desperate
strait. He was as strong as I, and he had the advantage in height. For