So he went back and watched through the long hours at the bottom of the shaft where the evil spirit lay in the stolen body it had maimed, writhing and cursing, and weeping and groaning, and learning the lesson of pain. And towards dawn the thing he had waited for happened, the brain glowed brightly and the evil spirit came out, and Mr. Bessel entered the body he had feared he should never enter again. As he did so, the silence--the brooding silence--ended; he heard the tumult of traffic and the voices of people overhead, and that strange world that is the shadow of our world--the dark and silent shadows of ineffectual desire and the shadows of lost men--vanished clean away. He lay there for the space of about three hours before he was found. And in spite of the pain and suffering of his wounds, and of the dim damp place in which he lay; in spite of the tears--wrung from him by his physical distress--his heart was full of gladness to know that he was nevertheless back once more in the kindly world of men. 11. MR. BRISHER'S TREASURE “You can't be TOO careful WHO you marry,” said Mr. Brisher, and pulled thoughtfully with a fat-wristed hand at the lank moustache that hides his want of chin. “That's why--” I ventured. “Yes,” said Mr. Brisher, with a solemn light in his bleary, blue-grey eyes, moving his head expressively and breathing alcohol INTIMATELY at me. “There's lots as 'ave 'ad a try at me--many as I could name in this town--but none 'ave done it--none.” I surveyed the flushed countenance, the equatorial expansion, the masterly carelessness of his attire, and heaved a sigh to think that by reason of the unworthiness of women he must needs be the last of his race. “I was a smart young chap when I was younger,” said Mr. Brisher. “I 'ad my work cut out. But I was very careful--very. And I got through...” He leant over the taproom table and thought visibly on the subject of my trustworthiness. I was relieved at last by his confidence. “I was engaged once,” he said at last, with a reminiscent eye on the shuv-a'penny board. “So near as that?” He looked at me. “So near as that. Fact is--” He looked about him, brought his face close to mine, lowered his voice, and fenced off an unsympathetic world with a grimy hand. “If she ain't dead or married to some one else or anything--I'm engaged still. Now.” He confirmed this statement with nods and facial contortions. “STILL,” he said, ending the pantomime, and broke into a reckless smile at my surprise. “ME!” “Run away,” he explained further, with coruscating eyebrows. “Come 'ome. “That ain't all. “You'd 'ardly believe it,” he said, “but I found a treasure. Found a regular treasure.” I fancied this was irony, and did not, perhaps, greet it with proper surprise. “Yes,” he said, “I found a treasure. And come 'ome. I tell you I could surprise you with things that has happened to me.” And for some time he was content to repeat that he had found a treasure--and left it.