"True," said his master, laughing. "I don't feel that I am Lion's equal more than half the time, myself. He is a noble fellow. He has a very superior nature. My wife declares he is a poet, and that when he goes off by himself, and gazes into vacancy with that sort of look, he is composing verses." Another customer had strolled in by this time; he laughed at the broker's easy wit; the rest joined in the laugh; some one said something which I did not understand, and Drayton threw back his head and guffawed heartily. I think their laughter made me feel more isolate from them than anything had yet done. "Why!" exclaimed the broker sharply, "what is this? Jason! What does this mean?" His face, as he turned it over his shoulder to address the clerk, had changed colour; he was indeed really pale. He held his fingers on the great sheet of blue blotting-paper, to which he pointed, unsteadily. "Upon my soul, sir," said Jason, flushing and then paling in his turn. "That is a queer thing! May I show it to Mr. Drayton?" The inspector stepped forward, as the broker nodded; and examined the blotting-paper attentively. "It is written over," he said in a professional tone, "from end to end. I see that. It is written with one name. It is the name of"-- "_Helen!_" interrupted the broker. "Yes," replied the inspector. "Yes, it is: Helen; distinctly, Helen. Someone must have"-- But I stayed to hear no more. What some one must have done, I sprang and left the live men to decide--as live men do decide such things--among themselves. I sprang, and crying: "Helen! Helen! Helen!" with one bound I brushed them by, and fled the room, and reached the outer air and sought for her. As nearly as one can characterize the emotion of such a moment I should say that it was one of mortal intensity; perhaps of what in living men we should call maniac intensity. Up to this moment I could not be said to have comprehended the effect of what had taken place upon my wife. The full force of her terrible position now struck me like the edge of a weapon with whose sheath I had been idling. Hot in the flame of my anger I had gone from her; and cold indeed had I returned. Her I had left dumb before my cruel tongue, but dumb was that which had come back to her in my name. I was a dead man. But like any living of them all--oh, more than any living--I loved my wife. I loved her more because I had been cruel to her than if I had been kind. I loved her more because we had parted so bitterly than if we had parted lovingly. I loved her more because I had died than if I had lived. I must see my wife! I must find my wife! I must say to her--I must tell her-- Why, who in all the world but me could do _anything_ for Helen now? Out into the morning air I rushed, and got the breeze in my face, and up the thronging street as spirits do, unnoted and unknown of men, I passed; solitary in the throng, silent in the outcry, unsentient in the press.