As he became more and more aroused, at the same time gaining a stronger perception of the situation and harboring a more desperate desire to trap them, a scheme by which he could do so came into his mind, and he set to work to put it into practice. The first move was his failure to appear for dinner, which had not occurred since he got the job at the freight yards. Late that night he came in loaded—or apparently so. One would have supposed, if not too close an investigator, that the fellow was in a hopeless state of intoxication. And so, notwithstanding that his imitation of himself as a roistering inebriate was far from being a perfect one, it succeeded with the two people for whose benefit (and ultimate undoing) he was giving the performance; for, unfortunately, neither of them was in the mood to criticize it. He was enabled, therefore, eventually to stagger into his room with the impression successfully conveyed that he was drunk and disorderly to the furthest limit. Once there, and from the moment of his violently slamming shut the door, his vigil began. He had tools with which to open the door should anyone lock him in, and the key was purposely left on the outside as a further blind. It was the fourth time that he set this trap before it closed on its victims. * * * * * Shortly before nine o’clock of the morning following the springing of the trap, Mr. Augustus Findlay drove up to the front portico of the mansion in a taxi, and with two small and exceedingly moderate-priced trunks set in front beside the driver. He’d gone out early and bought them at a place in Roslindale where they kept almost everything. The chauffeur lent a hand in taking them into the house, and about an hour later renewed the loan in bringing them out again. Edith came slowly down the great stairway, pulling on her gloves. She wore the long fur coat that Haworth had given her; indeed, everything she had on came from him. She didn’t raise her eyes as she descended, seeming to be occupied with her gloves. The veil which was pulled down over her face failed to hide the paleness of it, which glimmered through like a small white cloud. Haworth was standing back against the wall near the foot of the stairs, with the look of death upon him. It wasn’t so much the mortuary pallor of his countenance as the strained fixity of his staring yet unseeing eyes. He had gone to her room while Augustus was getting the taxi, and found it locked. “Open the door! Open it quick!” he’d called to her in a half whisper as he knocked lightly, for to create a disturbance would defeat what he had made up his mind to do. “Oh, I can’t!” she answered, coming as near to him as possible. “He’s taken away the key!” Haworth turned and ran down the two flights of stairs to the basement, and was back in a moment with a heavy iron bar. “Darling, are you there?” “Oh yes—I’m right here—as near as I can get!”