"I got a Prussian officer like that, that day," he went on after a moment. "I saw his dirty grey face close to mine, and I got my hands on his throat. I'd forgotten the exact position for the grip, and then suddenly I remembered it. I squeezed and squeezed--and, Ginger, the grip was right. I squeezed his life out in ten seconds." His voice rose to a shout. "Steady, Hugh," I cried. "You'll be frightening Elsie." "Quite right," he answered; "that would never do. I haven't told her that little incident--she wouldn't understand. But I'm going to show her the grip one of these days. As a soldier's wife, I think it's a thing she ought to know." He relapsed into silence, apparently quite calm, though his eyelids still twitched, while I watched him covertly from time to time. In my mind now there was no shadow of doubt that the doctor's fears were justified; I knew that Hugh Latimer was insane. That his loss of mental balance was periodical and not permanent was not the point; layman though I was, I could realise the danger to everyone in the house. At the moment the tragedy of the case hardly struck me; I could only think of the look on his face, the gloating, watching look--and Elsie and the boy.... At half-past nine he went to bed, and I had a few words with his wife. "Lock your door to-night," I said insistently, "as you value everything, lock your door. I am going to see Cremer to-morrow." "What's he been saying?" she asked, and her lips were white. "I heard him shouting once." "Enough to make me tell you to lock your door," I said as lightly as I could. "Elsie, you've got to be brave; something has gone wrong with poor old Hugh for the time, and until he's put right again, there are moments when he's not responsible for his actions. Don't be uneasy; I shall be on hand to-night." "I shan't be uneasy" she answered, and then she turned away, and I saw her shoulders shaking. "My Hugh--my poor old man." I caught the whispered words, and she was gone. * * * * * I suppose it was about two that I woke with a start. I had meant to keep awake the whole night, and with that idea I had not undressed, but, sitting in a chair before the fire, had tried to keep myself awake with a book. But the journey from France had made me sleepy, and the book had slipped to the floor, as has been known to happen before. The light was still on, though the fire had burned low; and I was cramped and stiff. For a moment I sat listening intently--every faculty awake; and then I heard a door gently close, and a step in the passage. I switched off the light and listened.