"I have gone through madness. That again was part of the bestiality I had not reckoned with. . . . And unless I take steps I shall soon be back in worse bestiality, worse madness. But I am taking steps. . . . And in the meantime, when you read this you are to be sure that it is written by a man perfectly sane. "It is nothing that I have killed Farrell. I could have killed him, as he could have killed me, at any time. I still think that, while the pursuit lay with me, my methods were the more delicate, and that I should never have goaded him to strike as he goaded me. "But I will grant that his methods were effective enough: and along one line I should have allowed them to be original, if I didn't know that he had picked up the hint of it on the _I'll Away_. It was _rumour_ that had cursed me there, and he started to work upon rumour. I had put up a plate in Harley Street, as you know, upon the dregs of my capital. This meant a certain bluff upon credit. If my reputation lasted me out six months, all would be well. He divined this and struck at it. To do him justice, I suppose that if he had walked up brutally to the Medical Association and given them his story, I should have been struck off the Register. He worked more subtly than that. Indefinable reports started up, spread and followed me. Out of the skies a net of suspicion descended between me and my quite reputable past. For no reason given, my fellow-practitioners began to shun me. "I had a bad case, and no money to carry it through. I have heard, Roddy, that he let you into the secret of the island and that you are like to prosper on it: and I wish you well. But I, who brought him to it, lingering him to land--I, but for whose treasured flask he would never have lived to see Santa Island-- could set up no claim on any of that wealth. "I had deserved this. It was all quite right, and I make no complaint. But I had to throw up Harley Street, and for two years I steadily sank. In the end I came to know worse hunger than I was prepared for. Though you won't have me at any price, I think you would pity if I told you of some of the holes to which I have crept to sleep. "I suppose--and now I think of it, I might have borrowed some comfort from the thought--I suppose that all the while, being rich, Farrell had hired eyes to watch me. It is certain that he ran across me--always at night, and always in evening dress. Once, on the Embankment, as I was coiling on a bench, he came down from the Savoy and along, bringing his dog for a walk. The dog scented me and growled; but I lay out stiff, pretending to sleep.