swift
assassination or to slow intrigue--last of all to self destruction
should his aims miscarry. He would kill himself and cheat them after
all. Many another in Petersburg had sacrificed his life rather than
suffer those years of torture which discovery brought. He knew that he
would not shrink even from the irrevocable if he were driven far enough.

A man may take such a resolution as this and yet a great desire of life
may remain to thwart it. Gessner found himself debating the issues more
calmly as the night wore on, and even asking himself if the presence of
a stranger in his house might be so intolerable as he had believed. He
had seen little of Alban and that little had not been to the young man's
disadvantage. If the youth were not all that report had painted him, if
the amenities of the house should civilize him and kindness win his
favor, then even he might be an advocate for those to whom he owed such
favors. This new phase set Gessner thinking more hopefully than at any
time since the beginning of it. He rose from his bed and turning on the
lamps began to recall all that the Pole had demanded of him. The terms
of the compact were not so very unreasonable, surely, he argued. Let
this young Kennedy consent to remain at "Five Gables" and he, Richard
Gessner, would answer for the rest. But would he consent to
remain--would that wild life of the slums call him back to its freedom
and its friendships? He knew not what to think. A great fear came to
him, not that the lad would remain but that he would go. Had it been at
a reasonable hour, he would have talked to him there and then, for the
hours of that night were beyond all words intolerable. He must see
Kennedy and convince him. In the end, unable to support the doubt, he
quitted his own room, and crossed the landing, irresolute, trembling,
hardly knowing what he did.

* * * * *

It would have been about five o'clock of the morning when he entered
Alban's room and discovered him to be still sleeping. A sound of heavy
breathing followed by a restless movement had deceived him and he
knocked upon the door gently, quite expecting to be answered. When no
reply came, he ventured in as one who would not willingly pry upon
another but is compelled thereto by curiosity. The room itself should
have been in darkness, but Alban had deliberately drawn the heavy
curtains back from the windows before he slept, and the wan gray light
of dawn s