ight; he must take some action that would ease the galling of his
thoughts. He was in that broken mood for which the Middle Ages offered
the cloister as a remedy; he felt the urgent need of sacrifice and
abnegation to purge him. And then he knew the sacrifice that he must
make: he must give up his work at Cullerne. He was thankful to find
that there was still enough of conscience left to him to tell him this.
He could not any longer be occupied on work for which the money was
being found by this man. He would give up his post at Cullerne, even if
it meant giving up his connection with his employers, even if it meant
the giving up of his livelihood. He felt as if England itself were not
large enough to hold him and Lord Blandamer. He must never more see the
associate of his guilt; he dreaded meeting his eyes again, lest the
other's will should constrain his will to further wrong. He would write
to resign his work the very next day; that would be an active sacrifice,
a definite mark from which he might begin a painful retracing of the
way, a turning-point from which he might hope in time to recover some
measure of self-respect and peace of mind. He would resign his work at
Cullerne the very next day; and then a wilder gust of wind buffeted the
windows of his room, and he thought of the scaffolding on Saint
Sepulchre's tower. What a terrible night it was! Would the thin bows
of the tower arches live through such a night, with the weight of the
great tower rocking over them? No, he could not resign to-morrow. It
would be deserting his post. He must stand by till the tower was safe,
_that_ was his first duty. After that he would give up his post at
once.

Later on he went to bed, and in those dark watches of the night, that
are not kept by reason, there swept over him thoughts wilder than the
wind outside. He had made himself sponsor for Lord Blandamer, he had
assumed the burden of the other's crime. It was he that was branded
with the mark of Cain, and he must hide it in silence from the eyes of
all men. He must fly from Cullerne, and walk alone with his burden for
the rest of his life, a scapegoat in the isolation of the wilderness.

In sleep the terror that walketh in darkness brooded heavily on him. He
was in the church of Saint Sepulchre, and blood dripped on him from the
organ-loft. Then as he looked up to find out whence it came he saw the
four tower arches falling to grind him to powder, and leapt