"Scott--" he began and paused. Now that he was about to impart his discovery, it seemed melodramatic, impossible. "Yes?" said Dr. Scott. He had sat down on the side of the desk opposite Dr. Lister's chair. His eye fell upon the old books with their close writing and he wondered whether Lister had called him to consult him about compositions of his own. He had hoped for something more interesting, but after all, what could excite a man more than conviction of his own powers? Dr. Scott wondered how he would get out of an uncomfortable situation. Then, at Dr. Lister's words, he felt the blood beating through his wrists and in the vein in his neck. "I have found a quantity of manuscript belonging to Basil Everman. I did not know until this afternoon that it existed. It has been stored away for many years as having no value beyond that of a souvenir of Basil for whom Mrs. Lister--" his voice changed a little. He had not quite forgiven Mary Alcestis--"for whom Mrs. Lister had a very deep affection. I wish to have your opinion of them before I speak to her about their value, of which she has, I am sure, no conception." Dr. Scott reached across the table. His motion was swift, eager, unlike him. He might have been said to pounce, hawk-like, upon the old books and papers and his hand shook as he touched first of all one of the unbound sheaves. He shielded his eyes from the glare of the lamp, his figure relaxed, became motionless, except for the turning of pages. Dr. Lister sat at first quietly, one knee thrown over the other, his foot swinging. After a while his guest looked up at him, in his face intense annoyance amounting almost to disgust. He tried to cover this revelation of his inner feeling, but was too late. "Don't mind saying just what you think," said Dr. Lister. "Nothing in the world would be so unfortunate as for us to set too high a value upon Basil's writings." But it was not Basil's writings which annoyed. "I wish you would stop swinging your foot!" Dr. Lister looked astonished, then he laughed. He went upstairs to glance in upon a sleeping Mary Alcestis. All compunctions had now departed from his breast. When he came back to the study, Dr. Scott asked a question. "How old was he?" "About twenty-five." "Incredible!" He bent again over Basil Everman's writing. Dr. Lister opened a notebook and read for a few minutes and laid it down, surfeited with Basil Everman. He crossed the hall and walked up and down the long parlor. When he went back within reach of Dr. Scott's whisper, he heard, "It seems to me you've come perilously near committing a sort of murder. What was his family about?" "They thought him a little wild. That is between you and me, Scott." "Wild!" repeated Dr. Scott, and still again, "Wild!" Again Dr. Lister started upon a promenade through the parlor where Basil had walked, past the old piano, under the old portraits. When he came back to the study, Dr. Scott had ceased reading.