imaged forth the faintest shadow of what I have heard--and
seen. Yes, seen. I have seen the incredible, such horrors that
even I myself sometimes stop in the middle of the street and ask
whether it is possible for a man to behold such things and live.
In a year, Villiers, I was a ruined man, in body and soul--in
body and soul."

"But your property, Herbert? You had land in Dorset."

"I sold it all; the fields and woods, the dear old
house--everything."

"And the money?"

"She took it all from me."

"And then left you?"

"Yes; she disappeared one night. I don't know where
she went, but I am sure if I saw her again it would kill me.
The rest of my story is of no interest; sordid misery, that is
all. You may think, Villiers, that I have exaggerated and
talked for effect; but I have not told you half. I could tell
you certain things which would convince you, but you would never
know a happy day again. You would pass the rest of your life,
as I pass mine, a haunted man, a man who has seen hell."

Villiers took the unfortunate man to his rooms, and
gave him a meal. Herbert could eat little, and scarcely touched
the glass of wine set before him. He sat moody and silent by