The herald-advance. (Milbank, S.D.) 1890-1922, 1907-09-06

In the liquid, Sir William took a small
white tabloid from a bottle in his
pocket and dropped 1t into the glass.
1t fixed, spluttered, and disappeared.
Then he raised the tumbler to his
lips, and as he did so the floating ice
tinkled against the sides Of the glass
like a tiny alarm.
Nerves gone," the stockbroking
gentleman close by said to his friend,
with a wink.
In five minutes or so, after he had
lit a cigarette, Gouldesbrough rose
and left the smoking room. He put on
his coat in the hall and went out Of
the front door.
1t was not yet late, and the huge
crescent of electric lights, which
seemed to stretch way beyond Hove
to Worthing, cleaned like a gigantic
coronet.
It was a clear night. The air was
searching and keen, and 1t seemed to
steady the scientist as he walked
down the steps and anne out from
under the hotel portico on to the pave
ment.
A huge round noon hung over the
sea, which was moaning quietly. The
lights in front Of the Alhambra music
hall cleaned brightly, and On the
promenade by the side Of the shore
innumerable couples paced and re-
paced amid a subdued hum of talk and
laughter.
The pier stretched away into the
water like a jewelled snake. It was
Brighton at 10 o'clock, bright, gay,
and animated.
Sir William was staying at the
Brighton Royal, the other great hotel
which towers up upon the front some
quarter Of a mile away from the Pal
ace where Marjorie and Lady Poole
were.
He strobe through the crowds, see
ing nothing Of them, hearing nothing
but the beat of his own heart.
Even for a man so strong as he, the
last hour had been terrible. Never be-
fore In all his life-at the moment Of
realization when some great scientific
theory had materialized into stipend
GUS fact-when first Marjorie had
promised to marry him-at any great
crisis of his life-had he undergone so
furious a strain as this Of the last
hour.
He came out Of the Palace hotel
knowing that he had carried out his
intentions with the most consummate
cyococc Ho ra~o ont ~ ~ roo1iv}p0
that not half a dozen men in England
could have done what he had done,
and as the keen air smote upon his
face like a blow from the fat of a
sword he realized also that not six
mon in England, walking the pleasant.
happy streets Of any town, were so un-
utterably stained and immeasurably
perjured as he.
AS he passed through the revolving
glass doors Of his own hotel and the
hall porters touched their caps, he ex-
erted all the powers Of his will.
He would no longer remember or
realize what he had done and what it
meant to him. He would only rejoice
In his achievement, and he banished
the fear that comes even to the most
evil when they know they have COM
mitted an utterly objectionable sin.
He did not s the lift to go to his
sitting room on the second floor; he
ran lightly up the stairs. wanting the
exercise as q means Of banishing
thought.
He entered his own room, switched
on the electric light, took OF his
coat, and stood in front Of the fire.
stretching his arms in pure physical
WEAKNESS.
Yes, that was over! Another step
was taken. Once more he had pro-
crossed q step toward his desire, In
spite OF the most adverse happenings
and the most forbidding aspects Of
fate.
The unaccustomed brandy at the
Palace hotel and the bromide solution
he had dropped into 1t had Gained his
nerves, and suddenly he laughed aloud
In the rich, silent room, a laugh Of
pure triumph and excitement.
Even az the echoes Of his voice died
away his eyes fell upon the table, and
he saw that there was a letter lying
there, addressed to him. The address
was written In q well-known hand
writing. He took 1t up, tore open the
envelope, and read the communities
ton.
It was this:
II have been down here for several
days, trying to escape from London
and the thoughts which London gives
me. But 1t has been quite useless. I
saw to-day, quite by chance. in the
hotel register, that you had arrived
here. did not think that we were
ever likely to meet again except In
the most casual way. I hope not.
Since ! have been here the torture Of
my life has increased a thousand-fold,
and | have come to the conclusion
that my life must stop. I am not fit
to live. I do not blame you too much,
because IL l hadn't been a scoundrel
and q wastrel all my life I should
never have put myself in your hands.
Az far - your lights 90. you have act
ed well to me. You have paid me