"'A half-written play--a play of YOURS as security?' He looked
at me almost fearfully, as if detecting the first symptoms of
insanity. 'Do you understand anything of business?' he enquired
mildly. I laughed and answered: 'No, not much.'

"He leaned back with closed lids. 'All this excitement has been
too much for me,' he said. 'If you'll excuse me, I'll prepare
for my nap.' And I stumbled out of the room, blindly, like the
Italian."

Granice moved away from the mantel-piece, and walked across to
the tray set out with decanters and soda-water. He poured
himself a tall glass of soda-water, emptied it, and glanced at
Ascham's dead cigar.

"Better light another," he suggested.

The lawyer shook his head, and Granice went on with his tale. He
told of his mounting obsession--how the murderous impulse had
waked in him on the instant of his cousin's refusal, and he had
muttered to himself: "By God, if you won't, I'll make you." He
spoke more tranquilly as the narrative proceeded, as though his
rage had died down once the resolve to act on it was taken. He
applied his whole mind to the question of how the old man was to
be "disposed of." Suddenly he remembered the outcry: "Those
Italians will murder you for a quarter!" But no definite project
presented itself: he simply waited for an inspiration.

Granice and his sister moved to town a day or two after the