As he spoke he drew away the heavy green curtain that hung across the window. A very pale shaft of light stole in and lit up his white face. It was the dawn, and, standing there, he looked like the spirit of the dawn, painted against the dying night in such pale colours, white, blue, and shadowy gold, a wonder of death and of life. In the silence Dr. Levillier and Julian gazed at him, and he seemed a mystery to them both, a strange enigma of purity and of unearthliness. "Good-bye, Cresswell," Levillier said at last. "Good-bye, doctor." "Good-bye, Valentine." Julian held out his hand to grasp his friend's, but Valentine began looping up the curtain and did not take it. In his gentlest voice he said to Julian: "Good-bye, dear Julian, good-bye. The dawn is on our friendship, Julian." "Yes, Valentine." Valentine added, after a moment of apparent reflection: "Take Rip away with you just for to-night. I don't want to be bitten in my sleep." And when Julian went away, the little dog eagerly followed him, pressing close to his heels, so close that several times Julian could not avoid kicking him. As soon as the flat door had closed on his two friends, Valentine walked down the passage to the drawing-room, which was shrouded in darkness. He entered it without turning on the light, and closed the door behind him. He remained in the room for perhaps a quarter of an hour. At length the door opened again. He emerged out of the blackness. There was a calm smile on his face. Two of his fingers were stained with blood, and to one a fragment of painted canvas adhered. When Valentine's man-servant went into the room in the morning and drew up the blinds, he found, to his horror, the picture of "The Merciful Knight" lying upon the floor. The canvas hung from the gold frame in shreds, as if rats had been gnawing it. CHAPTER II THE PICCADILLY EPISODE