The sleep was that which follows exhaustion; it was profound and beneficial. Evidently no distress of mind or body marred it, and for every sixty minutes of the blessed oblivion, there was renewed activity in nature's ever busy laboratory to replenish the strength that had been sacrificed in this man's protracted struggle to escape his doom, and, by means of it, to restore the mental balance, fortunately not too long lost.... When he awoke, it was to full consciousness. The sun was setting. Behind the Highlands of the Navesink it sank in royal state: purple, scarlet, and gold. Upon the crisping blue waters of Harbor, Sound, and River, the reflection of its transient glory lay in quivering windrows of gorgeous color. It crimsoned faintly the snow that lay thick on the multitude of city roofs; it blazoned scarlet the myriad windows in the towers and skyscrapers; it filled the keen air with wonderful fleeting lights that bewildered and charmed the unaccustomed eyes of the metropolitan millions. Champney waited for it to fade; then he turned to the man beside him. "Father Honore--" he half rose from the cot. The priest bent over him. Champney laid one arm around his neck, drew him down to him and, for a moment only, the two men remained cheek to cheek. "Champney--my son," was all he could say. "Yes; now tell me all--the worst; I can bear it." * * * * * "I can't see my way, yet." These were the first words he spoke after Father Honore had finished telling him of his prospective relief from sentence and the means taken to obtain it. He had listened intently, without interruption, sitting up on the cot, his look fixed unwaveringly on the narrator. He put his hand to his face as he spoke, covering his eyes for a moment; then he passed it over the three weeks' stubble on his cheeks and chin. "Is it possible for me to shave here? I must get up--out of this. I can't think straight unless I get on my feet." "Do you feel strong enough, Champney?" "I shall get strength quicker when I'm up. Thank you," he said, as Father Honore helped him to his feet. He swayed as if dizzy on crossing the room to a small mirror above a stand. Father Honore placed the hot water and shaving utensils before him. He declined his further assistance. "Are there--are there any clothes I could put on?" He asked hesitatingly, as he proceeded to shave himself awkwardly with his one free hand. "Such as they are, a plenty." Father Honore produced a common tweed suit and fresh underwear from the "handy closet." These together with some other necessaries from a drawer in the stand supplied a full equipment. "Can I tub anywhere?" was his next question after he had finished shaving.