"Only five o'clock," and he had said that he should get some dinner where he was, stop late at work, and not be home till after nine. He was to stay there and work for another three or four hours--to make calculations that required all his thought, when he had seen or conjured up that dreadful sight. No: he could not bear it. His nerves tingled, his brain was throbbing, and incipient madness seemed to threaten his reason as he prepared to obey the influence that urged him to go home. "The villain!" he groaned. "It must be a warning. Heaven help me, I will know the worst." STORY ONE, CHAPTER SIX. A PLEASANT EVENING. Dutch Pugh seized his hat and coat, and was about to dash into the street, when the remembrance of that evening before the coming of the Cuban came upon him, and he replaced them. "Stop a moment," he said hoarsely, as he began to walk up and down once more. "Let me think--let me take matters coolly, or I shall go mad. There, there, this will not do; I'm going up and down here like a wild beast in his cage." He made an effort, and forced himself to sit down. "Now," he said, "let's see. What does this mean? Here am I, a strong, full-blooded, sane man, and what have I been doing?" He paused for a moment before answering his question. "Letting my mind dwell on thoughts that are a disgrace to me, till I imagine--yes, imagine--so vividly that it seems real, all that nonsense. I picture the scene. I magnify a simple piece of cardboard, and make it fit my own vile imaginations till I see what could never have taken place; and on the strength of that, what am I going to do? Why rush off home as jealous and mad as an Othello, ready to distort everything I see, believe what does not exist, and generally play such a part as I should repent to my last day. Poor girl, has it come to this, that I cannot trust you, and am going to play the spy upon your actions?" "No, hang me if I do. Now, look here, Dutch, this is not manly," he continued, catechising himself. "You are foolishly jealous of that man, are you not?" "Yes," he said, answering his own question. "Now then, why are you jealous? Has your wife ever given you the slightest cause?" "Never, so help me Heaven."