Produced by James Rusk. HTML version by Al Haines THE GUILTY RIVER by Wilkie Collins CONTENTS Chapter I On the Way to the River Chapter II The River Introduces Us Chapter III He Shows Himself Chapter IV He Explains Himself Chapter V He Betrays Himself Chapter VI The Return of the Portfolio Chapter VII The Best Society Chapter VIII The Deaf Lodger Chapter IX Mrs. Roylake's Game: First Move Chapter X Warned! Chapter XI Warned Again! Chapter XII Warned for the Last Time! Chapter XIII The Claret Jug Chapter XIV Gloody Settles the Account Chapter XV The Miller's Hospitality Chapter XVI Bribery and Corruption Chapter XVII Utter Failure Chapter XVIII The Mistress of Trimley Deen CHAPTER I ON THE WAY TO THE RIVER FOR reasons of my own, I excused myself from accompanying my stepmother to a dinner-party given in our neighborhood. In my present humor, I preferred being alone--and, as a means of getting through my idle time, I was quite content to be occupied in catching insects. Provided with a brush and a mixture of rum and treacle, I went into Fordwitch Wood to set the snare, familiar to hunters of moths, which we call sugaring the trees. The summer evening was hot and still; the time was between dusk and dark. After ten years of absence in foreign parts, I perceived changes in the outskirts of the wood, which warned me not to enter it too confidently when I might find a difficulty in seeing my way. Remaining among the outermost trees, I painted the trunks with my treacherous mixture--which allured the insects of the night, and stupefied them when they settled on its rank surface. The snare being set, I waited to see the intoxication of the moths. A time passed, dull and dreary. The mysterious assemblage of trees was blacker than the blackening sky. Of millions of leaves over my head, none pleased my ear, in the airless calm, with their rustling summer song. The first flying creatures, dimly visible by moments under the gloomy sky, were enemies whom I well knew by experience. Many a fine insect specimen have I lost, when the bats were near me in search of their evening meal. What had happened before, in other woods, happened now. The first moth that I had snared was a large one, and a specimen well worth securing. As I stretched out my hand to take it, the apparition of a flying shadow passed, swift and noiseless, between me and the tree. In less than an instant the insect was snatched away, when my fingers were within an inch of it. The bat had begun his supper, and the man and the mixture had provided it for him.