"You are a fool, then, my friend," he said: "a
common fool! . . . You trusted to me before, so
you should obey me in everything now. . . But
serve you right! Die like a fly!" . . .

He turned away, muttering as he went:

"But all the same it is absolutely against the
rules."

"Grushnitski!" I said. "There is still time:
recant your slander, and I will forgive you every-
thing. You have not succeeded in making a fool
of me; my self-esteem is satisfied. Remem-
ber -- we were once friends" . . .

His face flamed, his eyes flashed.

"Fire!" he answered. "I despise myself and
I hate you. If you do not kill me I will lie in
wait for you some night and cut your throat.
There is not room on the earth for both of
us" . . .

I fired.

When the smoke had cleared away, Grushnitski
was not to be seen on the ledge. Only a slender
column of dust was still eddying at the edge of