He felt that the secret of the whole thing was not to realize the situation.

The friend who had painted the fatal portrait to which all his misery had been due had gone out of his life.

That was enough.
Then he remembered the lamp.

It was a rather curious one of Moorish workmanship, made of dull silver inlaid with arabesques of burnished steel, and studded with coarse turquoises.

Perhaps it might be missed by his servant, and questions would be asked.