These imaginings did not cause me to lose sight of my purpose to avoid the consequences of my unpremeditated crime. A dual process of thought was going on within me, one belonging to the real, the other to the unreal world. Reason cautioned me to arm myself against the chances of detection. Such as lay in the stains of blood on my hands and face. The snow would serve me here. From my blood-bespattered clothes the stains could not be removed so easily. I should not have returned to the death-room had I not noticed an ulster coat thrown across a chair which, in the open air, would render me reasonably safe from observation. I groped for the chair, found it, thrust my arms into the ulster, and buttoned it up. All was still as death--and death itself, a muffled figure, my father's son, lay outlined near the opposite wall. The deep darkness did not shut it from my sight. As I made my way to the street door my foot touched an object on the stairs. I stooped and picked up a watch, which I put into my pocket with a feeling of relief at a danger averted. I had a little difficulty in opening the door, and when this was accomplished and I closed it behind me, I did not linger a moment. Every step I took from it added to my chance of safety. Turning into another street I bathed my hands and face in snow, and removed all traces of the bloody conflict. The storm was now a gale; the wind tore and shrieked through the streets, the snow, whirling furiously into my face, almost blinded me. Not a soul was about, and I walked on unobserved, with no idea in which direction I was proceeding. Chance favored me, for my hap-hazard wanderings led me to the Lime Street station. I looked up at the clock--two minutes past four. I took a first-class single to Euston, it being safer, I thought, to travel first-class than third. My fingers were numbed, and I was rather slow in picking up my change. "You had better hurry, sir," said the clerk, "if you want to catch the 4:5." I hurried off, followed by a porter. "Any luggage, sir?" "No." "What class, sir?" "First." "Not that way, sir," said the porter; "the train goes from this platform." He showed me to the carriage and thanked me for the tip. I had barely time to take my seat before the train started.