"Oh, I'm not asking you to endure torture. I'd release you myself from that, if it comes to it, in spite of man-made laws. But how can you tell that being alive instead of dead next week or next month may not make an eternal difference to some other life? Your part isn't played out yet. Who are you to say how much good you may yet do before the curtain is rung down?" "Or how much evil! Well, as a suitable finish, suppose I go down into that garden and kill Ely Crouch," he suggested, smiling. "That would be a beneficial enough act to entitle me to a prompt and peaceful death, wouldn't it?" "Theoretically sound, but unfortunately impracticable," I answered, relieved at his change of tone. "I suppose it is." He looked at me, still smiling, but intent. "Chris, what do you believe comes after?" "Justice." "A hard word for cowards. What do I believe, I wonder? At any rate, in being sport enough to play the game through. You're right, old hard-shell. I'll stick it out. It will only mean spending _this_"--he swept the money back into its repository--"a little more slowly." "I was sure I could count on you," I said. "Now I can give you the talisman." I set on the desk before him a small pasteboard box. "Pay strict attention. You see that label? That's to remind you. One tablet if you can't sleep." "I couldn't last night." "Two if the pain becomes more than you can stand." He nodded. "But three at one time and you'll sleep so sound that nothing will ever awaken you." "Good old Chris!" Opening the box, he fingered the pellets curiously. "A blessed thing, your science! Three and the sure sleep." "On trust, Ned." "On honor," he agreed. "Then I mustn't expunge old Crouch? It's a disappointment," he added gayly. He pushed the box away from him and crossed over to the upper window. His voice came to me from behind the enshrouding curtains. "Our friend has finished his promenade. The air is the sweeter for it. I'll stay here and breathe it." "Good!" said I. "I've five minutes of telephoning to do. Then I'll be back."