Tales of Men and Ghosts

were so many sympathetic faces that he felt more than

eared that reiteration had made them a little confused and contradictory. To this end he had willingly acquiesced in his removal to a large quiet establishment, with an open space and trees about it

his old doubts. Either his hearers were not sincere, or else they had less power to aid him than they boasted. His interminable conferences resulted in nothing, and as the benefit of the long rest made itself felt, it produced an increased mental lucidity which rendered inact

ed only to watch for the visitors’ days, and scan the faces that s

d his last means of access to the world, a kind of subterranean channel on which he could set his “stat

tour, a pair of bright prominent eyes, and a chin insufficient

tfully, then held out his hand wi

ged?” Granice faltered, feeling

oking quieter — smoothe

rest. And I’ve taken the opportunity

so he noticed that the reporter was accompanied by a tall man with grave compassionate eyes. I

ds if you have time?” Granice’s voice shook like his hand. If this chance escaped him he felt that his

r now, Mr. Granice; but my friend has an

“I’m sorry — I think I could have explai

ly. “Certainly — I’ll take it.”

,” Granic

atched them a tear ran down his face. But as soon as they were out of sight he turned and

nd the journalist’s companion looked up curious

t was G

ranice, poor devi

en one just like it? He’s still absolutel

utely.

could make out how it started? A quiet conventional sort of fellow like that — w

ead cocked up in contemplation of the barred windows.

f it. I’ve never spoken of

’s interesting

ps into a whistle. “Why —

— the other turned on h

on the truth by the merest accident, whe

him — murdere

into . . . Do about it? Why, what was I to do? I couldn’t hang the poor devil, could

a grave face, grasping Gran

thrusting the paper at the reporter; and the two men t