as he had so justly deserved; but now six months of the monotony,
the frightful isolation and the loneliness had wrought a change. The
young man brooded continually over his fate. His days were filled
with morbid self-pity, which eventually engendered in his weak and
vacillating mind a hatred for those who had sent him here--for the
very men he had at first inwardly thanked for saving him from the
ignominy of degradation.

He regretted the gay life of Brussels as he never had regretted the
sins which had snatched him from that gayest of capitals, and as the
days passed he came to center his resentment upon the representative
in Congo land of the authority which had exiled him--his captain
and immediate superior.

This officer was a cold, taciturn man, inspiring little love in
those directly beneath him, yet respected and feared by the black
soldiers of his little command.

Werper was accustomed to sit for hours glaring at his superior
as the two sat upon the veranda of their common quarters, smoking
their evening cigarets in a silence which neither seemed desirous
of breaking. The senseless hatred of the lieutenant grew at
last into a form of mania. The captain's natural taciturnity he
distorted into a studied attempt to insult him because of his past
shortcomings. He imagined that his superior held him in contempt,
and so he chafed and fumed inwardly until one evening his madness
became suddenly homicidal. He fingered the butt of the revolver
at his hip, his eyes narrowed and his brows contracted. At last
he spoke.