The prisoner lit the cigarette which he had accepted, and
stretched back in the plain wooden chair to enjoy the misery of
his victim.

"But, a month--let me see? That would enable me to do some
corresponding myself, wouldn't it?" and Shirley took out a
memorandum book. "You have degraded a splendid intellect, a
gallant spirit and brought disgrace upon yourself, for this
miserable ending. You have ruthlessly murdered others, caring
naught for the misery and wretchedness of those left behind. Has
it been worth it all, Warren?"

The other's eyes twinkled, as he nodded.

"A wonderful game. And I haven't completed the score, even now."

"You are right, Warren. There is one soul more whom you have not
affected. It is too bad that you were not killed in the Albanian
revolution,--then you would have been on record as a hero instead
of the vilest scoundrel in Christendom."

Had the death-dealing current of the electric chair been turned
upon Warren he could not have been more startled, as he sprang
up. His pallid face seemed to turn a sickly green, as his dark
eyes opened in galvanized amazement.

"Albanian--what do you mean? I never saw Albania!"

"You will never see it again. You will never see Budapesth