"He made to go past me, and I caught hold of him.

"I saw his face change at my grip.

"'You fool,' I cried. 'Don't you know? She is dead!'

"He started back. He looked at me with cruel eyes. I saw a
sort of exultant resolve leap into them--delight. Then, suddenly,
with a scowl, he swept his sword back--_so_--and thrust."

He stopped abruptly.

I became aware of a change in the rhythm of the train. The
brakes lifted their voices and the carriage jarred and jerked.
This present world insisted upon itself, became clamourous. I saw
through the steamy window huge electric fights glaring down from
tall masts upon a fog, saw rows of stationary empty carriages
passing by, and then a signal-box hoisting its constellation of
green and red into the murky London twilight, marched after them.
I looked again at his drawn features.

"He ran me through the heart. It was with a sort of
astonishment--no fear, no pain--but just amazement, that I felt it
pierce me, felt the sword drive home into my body. It didn't hurt,
you know. It didn't hurt at all."

The yellow platform lights came into the field of view,
passing first rapidly, then slowly, and at last stopping with a
jerk. Dim shapes of men passed to and fro without.