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 incident
of the melon. But the cousins, who had returned, kept them informed
of the old man's condition. One day, about three weeks later,
Granice, on getting home, found Kate excited over a report from
Wrenfield. The Italian had been there again--had somehow slipped