I returned the paper where he had laid it, hid myself in Nawadlook's room, and saw Stampede when he carried it to you.

I don't know why I allowed it to be done.

I had no reason.

Maybe it was just--intuition, and maybe it was because--just in that hour--I so hated myself that I wanted someone to flay me alive, and I thought that what Stampede had found would make you do it.

And I deserve it! I deserve nothing better at your hands." "But it isn't true," he protested.