mixed with grey. On his right cheek his beard only partly hides a
long scar. His eyes are hidden by large smoked glasses. His voice
is low and gentle, his manners most correct - except for his giving
people poison or whatever else it was in that tea.

"I did not suffer any - at least I do not remember anything except
becoming unconscious. And I seem to have felt a pain like an iron
ring around my head. But I am not insane, and this fear that I feel
does not spring from my imagination, but from the real danger by
which I am surrounded. I am very hungry, but I do not dare to eat
anything except eggs, which cannot be tampered with. I tasted some
soup yesterday, and it seemed to me that it had a queer taste. I
will eat nothing that is at all suspicious. I will be in my full
senses when my murderers come; they shall not kill me by poison at
least.

"When I came to my senses again - it was the evening of the day
before yesterday - I found a letter on the little table beside my
bed. It was written in French, in a handwriting that I had never
seen before, and there was no signature.

"This strange letter demanded of me that I should write to my
guardian, calmly and clearly, to say that for reasons which I did
not intend to reveal, I had taken my own life. If I did this my
present place of sojourn would be exchanged for a far more agreeable
one, and I would soon be quite free. But if I did not do it, I
would actually be put to death. A pen, ink and paper were ready
there for the answer.

Never, I wrote. And then despair came over me, and I may have