don't know why men like Me, and men like Them, may not begin with rowing
and running and the like of that, and end in committing all the crimes
in the calendar: murder included. Well! you may be right again there.
Who's to know what may happen to him? or what he may not end in doing
before he dies? It may be Another, or it may be Me. How do I know?
and how do you?" He suddenly turned on the deputation, standing
thunder-struck behind him. "If you want to know what I think, there it
is for you, in plain words."

There was something, not only in the shamelessness of the declaration
itself, but in the fierce pleasure that the speaker seemed to feel in
making it, which struck the circle of listeners, Sir Patrick included,
with a momentary chill.

In the midst of the silence a sixth guest appeared on the lawn, and
stepped into the library--a silent, resolute, unassuming, elderly man
who had arrived the day before on a visit to Windygates, and who
was well known, in and out of London, as one of the first consulting
surgeons of his time.

"A discussion going on?" he asked. "Am I in the way?"

"There's no discussion--we are all agreed," cried Geoffrey, answering
boisterously for the rest. "The more the merrier, Sir!"

After a glance at Geoffrey, the surgeon suddenly checked himself on the
point of advancing to the inner part of the room, and remained standing
at the window.

"I beg your pardon," said Sir Patrick, addressing himself to Geoffrey,