The question startled Granice. He was about to explain, as he
had explained to Ascham; but suddenly it occurred to him that if
his motive had not seemed convincing to the lawyer it would carry
much less weight with Denver. Both were successful men, and
success does not understand the subtle agony of failure. Granice
cast about for another reason.

"Why, I--the thing haunts me . . . remorse, I suppose you'd call
it. . ."

Denver struck the ashes from his empty pipe.

"Remorse? Bosh!" he said energetically.

Granice's heart sank. "You don't believe in--REMORSE?"

"Not an atom: in the man of action. The mere fact of your
talking of remorse proves to me that you're not the man to have
planned and put through such a job."

Granice groaned. "Well--I lied to you about remorse. I've never
felt any."

Denver's lips tightened sceptically about his freshly-filled
pipe. "What was your motive, then? You must have had one."

"I'll tell you--" And Granice began again to rehearse the story
of his failure, of his loathing for life. "Don't say you don't
believe me this time . . . that this isn't a real reason!" he
stammered out piteously as he ended.