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"
I
reckon
it
's
like
going
to
sleep
when
you
are
pretty
well
tired
out
,
and
waking
to
find
a
summer
day
with
the
scent
of
hay
coming
in
at
the
window
.
I
used
to
thank
God
for
such
mornings
way
back
in
the
Blue-Grass
country
,
and
I
guess
I
'll
thank
Him
when
I
wake
up
on
the
other
side
of
Jordan
.
"
Next
day
he
was
much
more
cheerful
,
and
read
the
life
of
Stonewall
Jackson
much
of
the
time
.
I
went
out
to
dinner
with
a
mining
engineer
I
had
got
to
see
on
business
,
and
came
back
about
half-past
ten
in
time
for
our
game
of
chess
before
turning
in
.
I
had
a
cigar
in
my
mouth
,
I
remember
,
as
I
pushed
open
the
smoking-room
door
.
The
lights
were
not
lit
,
which
struck
me
as
odd
.
I
wondered
if
Scudder
had
turned
in
already
.
I
snapped
the
switch
,
but
there
was
nobody
there
.
Then
I
saw
something
in
the
far
corner
which
made
me
drop
my
cigar
and
fall
into
a
cold
sweat
.
My
guest
was
lying
sprawled
on
his
back
.
There
was
a
long
knife
through
his
heart
which
skewered
him
to
the
floor
.
I
sat
down
in
an
armchair
and
felt
very
sick
.
That
lasted
for
maybe
five
minutes
,
and
was
succeeded
by
a
fit
of
the
horrors
.
The
poor
staring
white
face
on
the
floor
was
more
than
I
could
bear
,
and
I
managed
to
get
a
table-cloth
and
cover
it
.
Then
I
staggered
to
a
cupboard
,
found
the
brandy
and
swallowed
several
mouthfuls
.
I
had
seen
men
die
violently
before
;
indeed
I
had
killed
a
few
myself
in
the
Matabele
War
;
but
this
cold-blooded
indoor
business
was
different
.
Still
I
managed
to
pull
myself
together
.
I
looked
at
my
watch
,
and
saw
that
it
was
half-past
ten
.
An
idea
seized
me
,
and
I
went
over
the
flat
with
a
small-tooth
comb
.
There
was
nobody
there
,
nor
any
trace
of
anybody
,
but
I
shuttered
and
bolted
all
the
windows
and
put
the
chain
on
the
door
.
By
this
time
my
wits
were
coming
back
to
me
,
and
I
could
think
again
.
It
took
me
about
an
hour
to
figure
the
thing
out
,
and
I
did
not
hurry
,
for
,
unless
the
murderer
came
back
,
I
had
till
about
six
o'clock
in
the
morning
for
my
cogitations
.
I
was
in
the
soup
--
that
was
pretty
clear
.
Any
shadow
of
a
doubt
I
might
have
had
about
the
truth
of
Scudder
's
tale
was
now
gone
.
The
proof
of
it
was
lying
under
the
table-cloth
.
The
men
who
knew
that
he
knew
what
he
knew
had
found
him
,
and
had
taken
the
best
way
to
make
certain
of
his
silence
.
Yes
;
but
he
had
been
in
my
rooms
four
days
,
and
his
enemies
must
have
reckoned
that
he
had
confided
in
me
.
So
I
would
be
the
next
to
go
.
It
might
be
that
very
night
,
or
next
day
,
or
the
day
after
,
but
my
number
was
up
all
right
.
Then
suddenly
I
thought
of
another
probability
.
Supposing
I
went
out
now
and
called
in
the
police
,
or
went
to
bed
and
let
Paddock
find
the
body
and
call
them
in
the
morning
.
What
kind
of
a
story
was
I
to
tell
about
Scudder
?
I
had
lied
to
Paddock
about
him
,
and
the
whole
thing
looked
desperately
fishy
.
If
I
made
a
clean
breast
of
it
and
told
the
police
everything
he
had
told
me
,
they
would
simply
laugh
at
me
.
The
odds
were
a
thousand
to
one
that
I
would
be
charged
with
the
murder
,
and
the
circumstantial
evidence
was
strong
enough
to
hang
me
.
Few
people
knew
me
in
England
;
I
had
no
real
pal
who
could
come
forward
and
swear
to
my
character
.
Perhaps
that
was
what
those
secret
enemies
were
playing
for
.
They
were
clever
enough
for
anything
,
and
an
English
prison
was
as
good
a
way
of
getting
rid
of
me
till
after
June
15th
as
a
knife
in
my
chest
.
