He read on. The moments passed. The dreaded enemies anticipated by Mary Alcestis drifted in at the window and out again, and at last the campus clock struck five. Supper in the Lister house was early. He began to turn the pages rapidly and five or six at a time. They were covered with close writing; here and there were bars of music with Greek words between them. He took up another of the thick books. Here, closely copied, was "Bitter Bread"; here were other titles--"The Dust of Battle" with an explanatory sentence beneath it: "The fire of hell shall not touch the legs of him who is covered with the dust of battle in the road of God." Here was "Obsession," here "Victory," here "Shame." He opened the third book, saw poetry and blinked eyes which had begun to ache. He saw loose sheets of paper, and the string which had held them. When he put the string round them, he saw that some had been taken out of the package. He opened the other drawers--they contained only more camphor-scented, carefully wrapped packages of clothing. He went prowling about, he lifted the pillows from the bed, he looked into the pitcher on the little washstand. From it he dipped the fragments of paper and laid them on the bureau. "Passion makes its own laws"--he read, seeing exactly what Mary Alcestis had thought and what she had begun to do. Oh, miserable Mary Alcestis! His coat had capacious pockets. These he filled and went to his study. He emptied the contents into the drawer which contained his own meager original work. Then he went back to the third story, fastened the window and the drawer, and, locking the door, carried the key and the remaining manuscripts away with him. At nine o'clock that evening he stepped quietly from the side door of his study across to Dr. Scott's room in Recitation Hall where he saw a light. Mrs. Lister had wakened, had taken more broth, and again slept peacefully. Her intention to destroy Basil's manuscript brought peace to her mind. She would have lost that peace suddenly and completely could she have seen her husband as he appeared before Dr. Scott, his spectacles awry, his face flushed, his eyes burning. Dr. Lister had complete confidence in Dr. Scott's judgment and in his sense of honor. It was necessary to lay a certain matter before one whose judgment was sound and who could be entirely trusted, and he was grateful because he had such a friend. "Will you come to my study for a few minutes?" he asked. Dr. Scott rose at once. There was a stealthy appearance in their advance. Dr. Scott looked back over his shoulder toward his house. If his wife saw him from the porch she would be just as likely as not to call to him; not because she wanted him or needed him, but because she was curious. When they reached the Lister house safely, Dr. Lister explained in a low tone that Mrs. Lister was not well and was asleep. He opened the door quietly and tiptoed into his study and then closed the door into the hall.