She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. Then he did give way a bit. F. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you. ‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. “You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause.
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