Brian strolled along the Esplanade, and crossing over, passed by Gorby
and walked on till he was opposite the Esplanade Hotel. Then he leaned
his arms on the fence, and, taking off his hat, enjoyed the calm beauty
of the hour.

"What a good-looking fellow," murmured Mr. Gorby, in a regretful tone.
"I can hardly believe it of him, but the proofs are too clear."

The night was perfectly still. Not a breath of wind stirred, for what
breeze there had been had long since died away. But

Brian could see the white wavelets breaking lightly on the sands. The
long narrow pier ran out like a black thread into the sheet of gleaming
silver, and away in the distance the line of the Williamstown lights
sparkled like some fairy illumination.

Over all this placid scene of land and water was a sky such as Dore
loved--a great heavy mass of rain-clouds heaped one on top of the
other, as the rocks the Titans piled to reach Olympus. Then a break in
the woof, and a bit of dark blue sky could be seen glittering with
stars, in the midst of which sailed the serene moon, shedding down her
light on the cloudland beneath, giving to it all, one silver lining.

Somewhat to the annoyance of Mr. Gorby, who had no eye for the
picturesque, Brian gazed at the sky for several minutes, admiring the
wonderful beauty of its broken masses of light and shade. At length he
lit a cigarette and walked down the steps on to the pier.

"Oh, suicide, is it?" muttered Mr. Gorby. "Not if I can help