When the man's head went down on the table, Herrick clasped him by the shoulder. He was profoundly moved by the miserable story, and could well understand how a once strong man had been changed by this tragic deed into a weak, tremulous, creature. He did not say a word of comfort. It would have been useless. After a time Corn recovered himself and continued in a dull hard voice. "There was an inquiry. I was exonerated from all blame. But I knew that I had killed my friend, that I had the blood of a fellow creature on my hands. I left my regiment and sent in my papers. Under another name I returned to England. All my relations were dead save my uncle the Bishop. He tried to calm me. I would not be calm. I would have committed suicide but that I felt that it was my duty to suffer for my crime." "Not a crime," interposed Herrick gently "an accident." "Yes! It was. Yet I can't help--but no matter. I took to gambling to drown my remorse and grief. I had never touched cards before. They became a passion with me. Other men take to drink,---I to cards. But all in vain. When the excitement of the game was over--in the morning, then my misery came back. I went to my uncle. He implored me to find peace in the bosom of the church, for he did not look upon me as the guilty wretch I was. I consented. As Pentland Corn I studied for the church. I became a priest,--a curate and worked in the slums of the East End. I left off gambling, and felt more at ease, thinking I was expiating my folly. In an evil hour--after years of hard work--my uncle gave me this living. I took it. Shortly afterwards he died. Then I realised the folly of accepting a charge where I had time to brood. The past came back to me, and--I took to gambling again. "That was weak Corn," said Herrick decisively. "I know it was--but I was in a manner driven to it. There was little work to do here. Society had no attractions for me. So then I had long--long hours of agony. I wanted to forget the past, and"---- "You should have gone back to the East End." Corn nodded. "I should have done many things," said he bitterly, "but that accident had taken all the manhood out of me. I drifted--drifted. Well to make a long story short, I took to going away to London at times to indulge in gambling and forget my sorrow." "I know. And you went to that club in Pimlico." "I did. Santiago told you that I suppose. I met him there. In an incautious moment I told him about Colonel Carr. Then I heard of the grudge he bore against him." "Do you know the story of that expedition?" "Most of it. I warned Colonel Carr against his enemy. He laughed, feeling safe in his tower. Then learning that I was fond of cards, Carr made me play with him. It was said that I went to 'The Pines' to convert the man. It was to gamble--so low had I sunk." Herrick shook his head. But he was so sorry for the man that he could not blame him for his folly. Corn resumed.