Crossan may have been pleased at being addressed as Colonel. Or he may have trusted that I would prevent any telegram being sent to the Prime Minister. At all events, he stopped scowling at Clithering and went off with Bland. I offered Clithering some of the game pie, but he refused to touch it. He sat down at a corner of the table and asked me to lend him a pencil and some paper. I did so, and he composed several long telegrams. The writing evidently soothed him. When he had finished he asked me quite calmly whether I thought he would really be hanged if he went to the post-office. I was not at all sure that he would not. Clithering sighed when he heard my opinion. Then he sat silent for a long time, evidently trying to make up his mind to the hanging. "If I could get the telegram through first," he said at last, "I shouldn't so much mind--" "But you wouldn't," I said; "and what is the good of throwing away your life without accomplishing anything?" "It's terrible," said Clithering, "terrible." It was terrible, of course; but I was beginning to get tired of Clithering. Besides, he looked very ridiculous in pyjamas which only reached halfway down his legs and arms. "Don't you think," I said, "that it would be better for you to go back to bed? You'll be safe there, and it won't really matter much whether your telegram goes to the Prime Minister or not. A little sleep will do you all the good in the world." "We have murdered sleep," said Clithering. I never realized the full immensity of Clithering's fatuousness until he uttered that mangled quotation from Macbeth in the tone of an old-fashioned tragedian. I believe the man actually revelled in harrowing emotion. It would not have surprised me to hear him assure me that the "multitudinous seas" would not wash out the blood-stains from his hands. He might very well have asked for "some sweet oblivious antidote." If he had known the passages I am sure he would have quoted them. "Do go to bed," I said. Then Bland came in leading Godfrey with him. "I rescued him," said Bland, "without very much difficulty." "I call it frightful cheek," said Godfrey, "fellows like that who ought to be touching their hats to me and saying 'Sir' when they speak to me--Fancy them daring--" This view of the matter was very characteristic of Godfrey. I really believe that he would dislike being hanged much less if the executioner were one of the small class of men whom he recognizes as his social equals. "They gave him quite a fair trial," said Bland, "and had just condemned him when--" "That fellow Crossan in particular," said Godfrey. "The Colonel ran round to tell you," said Bland. "I rather fancy they wanted to get off carrying out the sentence if they could." "A lot of fellows," said Godfrey sulkily, "who ought to be wheeling barrows! But it's very largely your fault, Excellency. You always encouraged that class. If you'd kept them in their proper places--"