On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. He declined supper, but took wine. He decided that Hoddy should pay a colossal price for the Dawn Pearl—shame, loneliness, torment, for only through these agencies would he learn your worth. He left his companion in the midst of a glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess as she moved from one group to join another. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. ’ Relaxing back, Gerald folded his arms. "That depends upon you.
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