in　forgotten　ever　since。　　The　chance　touch　decided　him。　　He　turned　off　towards　Borrow　Street；　walking　at　full　speed。　　He　could　but　go　again　and　see。　　He　would　sleep　better　if　he　knew　that　he　had　left　no　stone　unturned。　　At　the　corner　of　that　dismal　street　he　had　to　wait　for　solitude　before　he　made　for　the　house　which　he　now　loathed　with　a　deadly　loathing。　　He　opened　the　outer　door　and　shut　it　to　behind　him。　　He　knocked；　but　no　one　came。　　Perhaps　they　had　gone　to　bed。　　Again　and　again　he　knocked；　then　opened　the　door；　stepped　in；　and　closed　it　carefully。　　Candles　lighted；　the　fire　burning；　cushions　thrown　on　the　floor　in　front　of　it　and　strewn　with　flowers！　　The　table；　too；　covered　with　flowers　and　with　the　remnants　of　a　meal。　　Through　the　half…drawn　curtain　he　could　see　that　the　inner　room　was　also　lighted。　　Had　they　gone　out；　leaving　everything　like　this？　　Gone　out！　　His　heart　beat。　　Bottles！　Larry　had　been　drinking！
  Had　it　really　come？　　Must　he　go　back　home　with　this　murk　on　him；　knowing　that　his　brother　was　a　confessed　and　branded　murderer？　　He　went　quickly；　to　the　half…drawn　curtains　and　looked　in。　　Against　the　wall　he　saw　a　bed；　and　those　two　in　it。　　He　recoiled　in　sheer　amazement　and　relief。　　Asleep　with　curtains　undrawn；　lights　left　on？　Asleep　through　all　his　knocking！　　They　must　both　be　drunk。　　The　blood　rushed　up　in　his　neck。　　Asleep！　　And　rushing　forward　again；　he　called　out：　〃Larry！〃　　Then；　with　a　gasp　he　went　towards　the　bed。　　〃Larry！〃　No　answer！　　No　movement！　　Seizing　his　brother's　shoulder；　he　shook　it　violently。　　It　felt　cold。　　They　were　lying　in　each　other's　arms；　breast　to　breast；　lips　to　lips；　their　faces　white　in　the　light　shining　above　the　dressing…table。　　And　such　a　shudder　shook　Keith　that　he　had　to　grasp　the　brass　rail　above　their　heads。　　Then　he　bent　down；　and　wetting　his　finger；　placed　it　close　to　their　joined　lips。　No　two　could　ever　swoon　so　utterly　as　that；　not　even　a　drunken　sleep　could　be　so　fast。　　His　wet　finger　felt　not　the　faintest　stir　of　air；　nor　was　there　any　movement　in　the　pulses　of　their　hands。　　No　breath！　No　life！　　The　eyes　of　the　girl　were　closed。　　How　strangely　innocent　she　looked！　　Larry's　open　eyes　seemed　to　be　gazing　at　her　shut　eyes；　but　Keith　saw　that　they　were　sightless。　　With　a　sort　of　sob　he　drew　down　the　lids。　　Then；　by　an　impulse　that　he　could　never　have　explained；　he　laid　a　hand　on　his　brother's　head；　and　a　hand　on　the　girl's　fair　hair。　　The　clothes　had　fallen　down　a　little　from　her　bare　shoulder；　he　pulled　them　up；　as　if　to　keep　her　warm；　and　caught　the　glint　of　metal；　a　tiny　gilt　crucifix　no　longer　than　a　thumbnail；　on　a　thread　of　steel　chain；　had　slipped　down　from　her　breast　into　the　hollow　of　the　arm　which　lay　round　Larry's　neck。　　Keith　buried　it　beneath　the　clothes　and　noticed　an　envelope　pinned　to　the　coverlet；　bending　down；　he　read：　〃Please　give　this　at　once　to　the　police。　LAURENCE　DARRANT。〃　　He　thrust　it　into　his　pocket。　　Like　elastic　stretched　beyond　its　uttermost；　his　reason；　will；　faculties　of　calculation　and　resolve　snapped　to　within　him。　　He　thought　with　incredible　swiftness：　'I　must　know　nothing　of　this。　　I　must　go！'　And；　almost　before　he　knew　that　he　had　moved；　he　was　out　again　in　the　street。
  He　could　never　have　told　of　what　he　thought　while　he　was　walking　home。　　He　did　not　really　come　to　himself　till　he　was　in　his　study。　There；　with　a　trembling　hand；　he　poured　himself　out　whisky　and　drank　it　off。　　If　he　had　not　chanced　to　go　there；　the　charwoman　would　have　found　them　when　she　came　in　the　morning；　and　given　that　envelope　to　the　police！　　He　took　it　out。　　He　had　a　righta　right　to　know　what　was　in　it！　　He　broke　it　open。
  〃I；　Laurence　Darrant；　about　to　die　by　my　own　hand；　declare　that　this　is　a　solemn　and　true　confession。　　I　committed　what　is　known　as　the　Glove　Lane　Murder　on　the　night　of　November　the　27th　last　in　the　following　way〃on　and　on　to　the　last　words〃We　didn't　want　to　die；　but　we　could　not　bear　separation；　and　I　couldn't　face　letting　an　innocent　man　be　hung　for　me。　　I　do　not　see　any　other　way。　　I　beg　that　there　may　be　no　postmortem　on　our　bodies。　　The　stuff　we　have　taken　is　some　of　that　which　will　be　found　on　the　dressing…table。　　Please　bury　us　together。
  〃LAURENCE　DARRANT。　〃January　the　28th；　about　ten　o'clock　p。m。〃
  Full　five　minutes　Keith　stood　with　those　sheets　of　paper　in　his　hand；　while　the　clock　ticked；　the　wind　moaned　a　little　in　the　trees　outside；　the　flames　licked　the　logs　with　the　quiet　click　and　ruffle　of　their　intense　far…away　life　down　there　on　the　hearth。　　Then　he　roused　himself；　and　sat　down　to　read　the　whole　again。
  There　it　was；　just　as　Larry　had　told　it　to　him…nothing　left　out；　very　clear；　even　to　the　addresses　of　people　who　could　identify　the　girl　as　having　once　been　Walenn's　wife　or　mistress。　　It　would　convince。　　Yes！　It　would　convince。
  The　sheets　dropped　from　his　hand。　　Very　slowly　he　was　grasping　the　appalling　fact　that　on　the　floor　beside　his　chair　lay　the　life　or　death　of　yet　another　man；　that　by　taking　this　confession　he　had　taken　into　his　own　hands　the　fate　of　the　vagabond　lying　under　sentence　of　death；　that　he　could　not　give　him　back　his　life　without　incurring　the　smirch　of　this　disgrace；　without　even　endangering　himself。　　If　he　let　this　confession　reach　the　authorities；　he　could　never　escape　the　gravest　suspicion　that　he　had　known　of　the　whole　affair　during　these　two　months。　　He　would　have　to　attend　the　inquest；　be　recognised　by　that　policeman　as　having　come　to　the　archway　to　see　where　the　body　had　lain；　as　having　visited　the　girl　the　very　evening　after　the　murder。　　Who　would　believe　in　the　mere　coincidence　of　such　visits　on　the　part　of　the　murderer's　brother。　　But　apart　from　that　suspicion；　the　fearful　scandal　which　so　sensational　an　affair　must　make　would　mar　his　career；　his　life；　his　young　daughter's　life！　　Larry's　suicide　with　this　girl　would　make　sensation　enough　as　it　was；　but　nothing　to　that　other。　　Such　a　death　had　its　romance；　involved　him　in　no　way　save　as　a　mourner；　could　perhaps　even　be　hushed　up！　　The　other　nothing　could　hush　that　up；　nothing　prevent　its　ringing　to　the　house…　tops。　　He　got　up　from　his　chair；　and　for　many　minutes　roamed　the　room　unable　to　get　his　mind　to　bear　on　the　issue。　Images　kept　starting　up　before　him。　　The　face　of　the　man　who　handed　him　wig　and　gown　each　morning；　puffy　and　curious；　with　a　leer　on　it　he　had　never　noticed　before；　his　young　daughter's　lifted　eyebrows；　mouth　drooping；　eyes　troubled；　the　tiny　gilt　crucifix　glinting　in　the　hollow　of　the　dead　girl's　arm；　the　sightless　look　in　Larry's　unclosed　eyes；　even　his　own　thumb　and　finger　pulling　the　lids　down。　　And　then　he　saw　a　street　and　endless　people　passing；　turning　to　stare　at　him。　　And；　stopping　in　his　tramp；　he　said　aloud：　〃Let　them　go　to　hell！　　Seven　days'　wonder！〃　Was　he　not　trustee　to　that　confession！　　Trustee！　　After　all　he　had　done　nothing　to　be　ashamed　of；　even　if　he　had　kept　knowledge　dark。　　A　brother！　　Who　could　blame　him？　　And　he　picked　up　those　sheets　of　paper。　　But；　like　a　great　murky　hand；　the　scandal　spread　itself　about　him；　its　coarse　malignant　voice　seemed　shouting：　〃Paiper！。。。　Paiper！。。。　Glove　Lane　Murder！。。。　Suicide　and　confession　of　brother　of　well…known　K。C。。。。　　Well…known　K。C。's　brother。。。。　　Murder　and　suicide。。。。　Paiper！〃　　Was　he　to　let　loose　that　flood　of　foulness？　Was　he；　who　had　done　nothing；　to　smirch　his　own　little　daughter's　life；　to　smirch　his　dead　brother；　their　dead　motherhimself；　his　own　valuable；　important　future？　　And　all　for　a　sewer　rat！　　Let　him　hang；　let　the　fellow　hang　if　he　must！　　And　that　was　not　certain。　　Appeal！　Petition！　　He　mighthe　should　be　saved！　　To　have　got　thus　far；　and　then；　by　his　own　action；　topple　himself　down！
  With　a　sudden　darting　movement　he　thrust　the　confession　in　among　the　burning　coals。　　And　a　smile　licked　at　the　folds　in　his　dark　face；　like　those　flames　licking　the　sheets　of　paper；　till　they　writhed　and　blackened。　　With　the　toe　of　his　boot　he　dispersed　their　scorched　and　crumbling　wafer。　　Stamp　them　in！　　Stamp　in　that　man's　life！　　Burnt！　No　more　doubts；　no　more　of　this　gnawing　fear！　　Burnt？　　A　manan　innocent…sewer　rat！　　Recoiling　from　the　fire　he　grasped　his　forehead。　It　was　burning　hot　and　seemed　to　be　going　round。
  Well；　it　was　done！　　Only　fools　without　will　or　purpose　regretted。　And　suddenly　he　laughed。　　So　Larry　had　died　for　nothing！　　He　had　no　will；　no　purpose；　and　was　dead！　　He　and　that　girl　might　now　have　been　living；　loving　each　other　in　the　warm　night；　away　at　the　other　end　of　the　world；　instead　of　lying　dead　in　the　cold　night　here！　　Fools　and　weaklings　regretted；　suffered　from　conscience　and　remorse。　　A　man　trod　firmly；　held　to　his　purpose；　no　matter　what！
  He　went　to　the　window　and　drew　back　the　curtain。　　What　was　that？　　A　gibbet　in　the　air；　a　body　hanging？　　Ah！　　Only　the　treesthe　dark　treesthe　winter　skeleton　trees！　　Recoiling；　he　returned　to　his　armchair　and　sat　down　before　the　fire。　　It　had　been　shining　like　that；　the　lamp　turned　low；　his　chair　drawn　up；　when　Larry　came　in　that　afternoon　two　months　ago。　　Bah！　　He　had　never　come　at　all！　　It　was　a　nightmare。　　He　had　been　asleep。　　How　his　head　burned！　　And　leaping　up；　he　looked　at　the　calendar　on　his　bureau。　　〃January　the　28th！〃　　No　dream！　　His　face　hardened　and　darkened。　　On！　　Not　like　Larry！　　On！