"What am I better than any other evil spirit?
Oh, Heaven!" he cried, passionately, "the horror of the life I lead! Shut up in the prison I dare not leave, haunted night and day by the vision of that murdered man, every hope and blessing that life holds gone forever! I feel sometimes as though I were going mad!" He lifted his cap and let the chill night wind cool his burning forehead.

There was a long, blank pause.

When Reginald Stanford spoke, his voice was low and subdued.
"Are you quite certain the man you shot was shot dead?
You hardly waited to see, of course; and how are you to tell positively the wound was fatal ?" "I wish to Heaven there could be any doubt of it!" groaned the young man.

"My aim is unerring; I saw him fall, shot through the heart." His voice died away in a hoarse whisper.

Again there was a pause.
"Your provocation was great," said Reginald.