"Easily, if you commit murder." "That isn't murder----" But Quarren cut him short continuing: "Sink lower, you ask? What have you done, anyway--except to commit this crime against yourself?"--touching him on the wrist. "I'm not aware of any other crime committed by you, Ledwith. You're clean as you stand--except for this damnable insult and injury you offer yourself! Can't you reason? A bullet-stung animal sometimes turns and bites itself. Is that why you are doing it?--to arouse the amusement and contempt of your hunter?" "Quarren! By God you shall not say that to me----" "Why not? Have you ever considered what that man must think of you to see you turn and tear at the body he has crippled?" Ledwith's sunken eyes blazed; he straightened himself, took one menacing step forward; and Quarren laid a light, steady hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me," he said; "has it never occurred to you that you could deal him no deeper blow than to let him see a man stand up to him, face to face, where a creature lay writhing before, biting into its own vitals?" He smiled into the fixed eyes of the almost mindless man: "If you say the word _I'll_ stand by you, Ledwith. If all you want to do is to punish him, murder isn't the way. What does a dead man care? Cut your own throat and the crime might haunt him--and might not. But _kill_!--Nonsense. It's all over then--except for the murderer." He slid his hand quietly to Ledwith's arm, patted it. "To punish him you need a doctor.... It's only a week under the new treatment. You know that, don't you? After that a few months to get back nerve and muscle and common sense." "And then?" motioned Ledwith with dry lips. "Then? Oh, anything that you fancy. It's according to a man's personal taste. You can take him by the neck and beat him up in public if you like--or knock him down in the club as often as he gets up. It all depends, Ledwith. Some of us maintain self-respect without violence; some of us seem to require it. It's up to you." "Yes." Quarren said carelessly: "If I were you, I think that I'd face the world as soon as I was physically and mentally well enough--the real world I mean, Ledwith--either here or abroad, just as I felt about it. "A man can get over anything except the stigma of dishonesty. And--personally I think he ought to have another chance even after that. But men's ideas differ. As for you, what you become and show that you are, will go ultimately with the world. Beat him up if you like; but, personally, I never even wished to kick a cur. Some men kick 'em to their satisfaction; it's a matter of taste I tell you. Besides----" He stopped short; and presently Ledwith looked up. "Shall I say it?" "Yes. You are kind to me, always."