“Yes, Richard!--your nice Richard! But what did I want you for to-night? It was to let you see that I have it in my power to let your brother in for three months hard--not less. But you know, my dear, don't you, that I wouldn't do anything to give you pain? That is why, so far, I've taken no steps. But your brother must be unarmed. I can't have my life exposed, after his threats, and all”. “Unarmed....” “Yes. I have it on good authority that your brother has guns. I must have those guns put into my own hands by you...” “But I couldn't! He would find out...” “Then I must act, that's all. Or no--I give you another chance--tell him of the fifty pounds I sent--that may disarm him in another way--” He was sure that this she would not now do, yet felt relieved when she cried out: “I couldn't! Not now! Can't you see?” “Well, there is nothing to be done, then. I must act, that's all”. “But don't be _hard_! What can I do? Sooner or later he'd be sure to miss them!” “Poh! he is not always shooting, I suppose? And after a few weeks I'd give them back. Anyway, think it over: and I'll be here on Tuesday night next at nine to receive them. Good night--” She looked palely after him, her feet in a net, new to her, woven of concealments and deceit. At eleven that night she was sitting in their diminutive parlour,--Hogarth at a table inscribing the association's names received by post that evening; and at last, bending low over her sewing, she said: “Richard, is it true you have been to the Hall?” He started! “Yes. Who told you?” “I heard it”. He looked at her piercingly. “_Answer!_” “I heard it”, she said with a stubborn nod, quite pallid. He turned upon her a stare of displeasure; but in that second they heard a shouting down the village, ran to the front, and saw heaven all like cancer and cracked window-panes, for from a central plash of passion the shattered asteroid had shot long-lingering ribbons of lilac light over the bowl of the sky. X ISAAC On the Tuesday was the inquest on the murdered Mephibosheth; ending in a verdict of wilful murder against some person unknown. The same night at nine Frankl had Hogarth's two guns from Margaret on the towing-path, she now well inveigled into his net, and under his commands. “I want you”, he said, “to meet me-here again on Thursday night, at 7.30”. “But you will tell one why, I suppose!” “When you come you will hear. And don't let anything keep you away--not _anything_, mind--if you take my hint”. She left him with her head hung, praying for deliverance, but consenting. The next (Wednesday) morning Frankl was in a high room of the Hall, in a corner of which cowered the Arab, Isaac, and he said in his strong bass in Arabic: “Well, Isaac, well”. A groan broke from the obese heap of grief; down each side of his kefie streamed waves of trembling; on his square-cut beard of ritual flecks of foam. “Isaac, why did you kill Mephibosheth?”