“Yes. He, poor man, was killed. Leonard, when I say ‘poor man’ the words exactly measure the amount of sorrow that I feel for him. An ancestor of four generations past is no more than a shadow. His fate awakens a little interest, but no sadness.” “I should say the same thing, I suppose. But my ancestor was not killed. He was condemned to a living death. Constance, it is no use; whether I will or no, the case haunts me day and night.” He sprang to his feet, and threw up his arms as one who would throw off chains. “How long since I first heard of it through that unfortunate old lady of the Commercial Road? Three weeks? It seems like fifty years. As for any purpose that I had before, or any ambition--it is gone--quite gone and vanished.” “As for me, I am haunted in the same manner.” “I am like a man who is hypnotised--I am no longer a free agent. I am ordered to do this, and I do it. As for this accursed Book of Extracts”--he laid his hand upon the abomination--“I am forced to go through it over and over again. Every time I sit down I am prompted by a kind of assurance that something will be discovered. Every time I rise up, it is with disgust that nothing has occurred to me.” “Are we to go on all our lives looking for what we can never find?” “We know the whole contents by heart. Yet every day there is the feeling that something will start into light. It is madness, Constance. I am going mad--like my grandfather, who killed himself. That will end the family tale of woes, so far as I am concerned.” “Send the book back to its owner.” He shook his head. “I know it all. That will be no use.” “Burn the dreadful thing.” “No use. I should be made to write it all out again.” “I dropped an envelope in your letter-box last night. Have you opened it?” “I don’t think I have read a single letter for the last three weeks.” “Then it must be among the pile. What a heap of letters! Oh, Leonard, you are indeed occupied with this business. I found last night three letters from Langley Holme to his wife. They were written from Campaigne Park; but on what occasion I do not know. I thought at first that I might have found something that would throw a little light upon the business. But of course, when one considers, how could he throw light upon his own tragic end?” He took the packet carelessly. “Do the letters tell us anything?” “Nothing important, I believe. They show that he was staying at the Park.” “We know that already. It is strange how we are continually mocked by the things we learn. It was the same with the letter from Australia.” “That was an interesting letter--so are these--even if they tell us nothing that we do not know already.”