Lyman walked slowly across the public square. The lawyers, the clerks, the tradesmen, who had become acquainted with his habits were wont to say, as they saw him strolling about, "There he goes, blind as a bat, with a story in his head." And they commented upon him now, but they could see that he was not in a dreaming mood, for his head was high and his heels fell hard upon the ground. At the edge of the sidewalk he halted for a moment, and his eye ran along the signs over the doors. Then he stepped up to an open door and entered without pausing at the threshold. Caruthers was sitting with his face toward the door. He flushed as Lyman entered, took his feet off the corner of the table and straightened himself back in his chair. Lyman stepped up to the table and without a word, stood there looking at him. "Well, you have come at last," said Caruthers, "I have been sitting here day after day, waiting for you." "You expected me," said Lyman. "Yes, as I say I have been waiting for you day after day. But where is the constable? You didn't bring him along." Lyman took out the note. "The fog that settled between us," said he. Caruthers nodded. "I would have come sooner," said Lyman, "but the fog was not defined until a few moments ago." "And I suppose your plan is to send me to the penitentiary. Tell me what you intend to do--don't stand there looking at me that way. Give a man a chance to defend his honor." "Honor," Lyman repeated, with a cold smile. "You haven't as much honor as a hyena." "Well, then, let me say name." "You can say name. A snake has a name. And you want a chance to defend yours." "Mr. Lyman, I really have no defense--I'm done up. I needed money and I put your name to that note, and if you want to disgrace my family, why you can send me to the penitentiary. I have suffered over it, day and night, and I am going to make the amount good if I live long enough. You can take everything I've got in here. But I suppose you would rather send me to the penitentiary." Lyman sat down. "When I left my office," said he, "I was angry enough to kill you, but now you appear so contemptible that I am sorry for you." "And I feel as contemptible as I look." "I don't think that is quite possible. If you felt as contemptible as you look you'd blow your brains out." He got up and stood looking at Caruthers. He put his hand to his forehead as if a troublesome thought were passing through his mind. "Now that I am here I don't know what to do," said he. "I know that you ought to be punished, but my old weakness comes upon me and I falter." Caruthers brightened and Lyman looked like an abashed criminal. "Lyman," said Caruthers, "if you have any mercy left, let me throw myself upon it. I know that there ought to be an end to your forgiveness, but why should you draw the line at me?" "I am a fool," said Lyman, "and it makes me blush to know that I can't hide it from you. But you are so contemptible that I haven't the heart to punish you."