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“Oh, send my brother back to me–
I cannot play alone!”

“Perhaps you’d like me to buy a broom and hire the crossing in Lennox Gardens? Then you’d be able to contemplate me all day long, and nourish your fine fat soul with delicate eating. Pah! You make me sick.”

“It’s the truth,” said he quietly.

“It may be. To me it looks a sight more like foie gras. Can’t do without me, can’t you? Well, I can jolly well do without you, and I’m going to.”

“I warn you,” he said: “I have done you an injury or two in my time, but by George if I stand up and let you shoot me–well, I hate you badly enough, but I won’t let you do it without fair warning.”

“I’ll risk it anyway,” said I.

“Very well.” He stood up, and folded his arms. “Shoot, then, and be hanged!”

I put out my hand to the revolver, hesitated, and withdrew it.

“That’s not the way,” I said. “I’ve got my code, as I told you before.”

“Does the code forbid suicide?” he asked.

“That’s a different thing.”

“Not at all. The man who commits suicide kills an unarmed man.”

“But the unarmed man happens to be himself.”

“Suppose that in this instance your distinction won’t work? Look here,” he went on, as I pushed back my chair impatiently, “I have one truth more for you. I swear I believe that what we have hated, we two, is not each other, but ourselves or our own likeness. I swear I believe we two have so shared natures in hate that no power can untwist and separate them to render each his own. But I swear also I believe that if you lift that revolver to kill, you will take aim, not at me, but by instinct at a worse enemy–yourself, vital in my heart.”

“You have some pretty theories to-night,” I sneered. “Perhaps you’ll go on to tell me which of us two has been Elaine’s husband, feeding daintily in Lennox Gardens, clothed in purple and fine linen, while the other–“

He interrupted me by picking up his revolver and striding to the fireplace again.

“So be it, since you will have it so. Kill me,” he added, with a queer look, “and perhaps you may go back to Lennox Gardens and enjoy all these things in my place.”

I took my station. Both revolvers were levelled now. I took sight along mine at his detested face. It was white but curiously eager– hopeful even. I lowered my arm, scanning his face still; and still scanning it, set my weapon down on the table.

“I believe you are mad,” said I slowly. “But one thing I see–that, mad or not, you’re in earnest. For some reason you want me to kill you; therefore that shall wait. For some reason it is torture to you to live and do without me: well, I’ll try you with that. It will do me good to hurt you a bit.” I slipped the revolver into my pocket and tapped it. “Though I don’t understand them, I won’t quarrel with your sentiments so long as you suffer from them. When that fails, I’ll find another opportunity for this. Good night.” I stepped to the door. “Reggie!”

I shut the door on his cry: crossed the corridor, and climbing out through the window, let myself drop into the lane.

As my feet touched the snow a revolver-shot rang out in the room behind me.

I caught at the frozen sill to steady myself: and crouching there, listened. Surely the report must have alarmed the house! I waited for the sound of footsteps: waited for three minutes–perhaps longer. None came. To be sure, the room stood well apart from the house: but it was incredible that the report should have awakened no one! My own ears still rang with it.