“For a while we rode in silence. Nothing was heard except the noise of the train and the clicking of our bags as they jostled each other in the receptacle above. I remember these details very vividly, because since then I have recalled the slightest fact in connection with the incident. I knew that the man across from me drew a cigar from his case, felt in his pocket for an instant, and then turned to me for a match. At the same time I experienced the feeling that the request veiled a larger purpose, and that there were matches in the pocket into which he had thrust his fingers. “But, as I complied with his request, he glanced indifferently out of the window, and following his gaze, I saw that we were passing a group of low lying hills sprinkled with stray patches of heather, and that across the hills a flock of sheep were filing, followed by a peasant girl in a short skirt. It was the last faint reminder of the Highlands. “The man across from me leaned out, looking back upon the neutral sky, the sparse patches of heather, and the flock of sheep. “‘What a tone the heather gives to a landscape!’ he remarked, and his voice sounded forced and affected. “I bowed without replying, and as he turned from the window, and a draught of cinders blew in, I bent forward to lower the sash. In a moment he spoke again: “‘Do you go to London?’ “‘To Leicester,’ I answered, laying the book aside, impelled by a sudden interest. ‘Why do you ask?’ “He flushed nervously. “‘I—oh, nothing,’ he answered, and drew away from me. “Then, as if with swift determination, he reached forward and lifted the book I had laid on the seat. It was a treatise of Von Hartmann’s in German. “‘I had judged that you were a physician,’ he said, ‘a student, perhaps, from a German university?’ “‘I am.’ “He paused for an instant, and then spoke in absent-minded reiteration, ‘So you don’t go on to London?’ “‘No,’ I returned, impatiently. ‘Can I do anything for you?’ “He handed me the book, regarding me resolutely as he did so. “‘Are you a sensible man?’ “I bowed. “‘And a philosopher?’ “‘In amateur fashion.’ “With feverish energy he went on more quickly, ‘You have in your possession,’ he said, ‘something for which I would give my whole fortune.’ He laid two half-sovereigns and some odd silver in the palm of his hand. ‘This is all I possess,’ he continued, ‘but I would give it gladly.’ “I looked at him curiously. “‘You mean the morphine?’ I demanded. “He nodded. ‘I don’t ask you to give it to me, I only ask—’ “I interrupted him. ‘Are you in pain?’ “He laughed softly, and I really believe he felt a tinge of amusement. ‘It is a question of expediency,’ he explained. If you happen to be a moralist—’ He broke off. “‘What of it?’ I inquired. “He settled himself in his corner, resting his head against the cushions. “‘You get out at Leicester,’ he said, recklessly. ‘I go on to London, where Providence, represented by Scotland Yard, is awaiting me.’ “I started. ‘For what?’