use,
anyway. I'd be better off dead."

"For God's sake let him do it, Nellie," hissed Fairfax. "That's the
thing; the very thing."

Poor Harvey suddenly came to a full realisation of the position he was
in. He had not counted on all this. Now he was in for it, and there
was no way out of it. A vast sense of shame and humiliation mastered
him. Everything before him turned gray and bleak, and then a hideous
red.

He had not meant to do a single thing he had already done. Events had
shaped themselves for him. He was surprised, dumfounded, overwhelmed.
The only thought that now ran through his addled brain was that he
simply had to do something. He couldn't stand there forever, like a
fool, waving a pistol. In a minute or two they would all be laughing
at him. It was ghastly. The wave of self-pity, of self-commiseration
submerged him completely. Why, oh why, had he got himself into this
dreadful pickle? He had merely come to talk it over with Nellie, that
and nothing more. And now, see what he was in for!

"By jingo," he gasped, in the depth of despair, "I'll do it! I'll make
you sorry, Nellie; you'll be sorry when you see me lying here all shot
to pieces. I've been a good husband to you. I don't deserve to die
like this, but----" His watery blue eyes took in the horrified
expressions on the faces of his hearers. An innate sense of delicacy
arose within him. "I'll do it in the hall."

"Be careful of the rug," cried Nellie, gayly, not for an instant
believing that he would carry out the threat.

"Shall I do it here?" he asked, feebly.

"No!" shrieked the women, putting their fingers in their ears.

"By all means!" cried Fairfax, with a loud laugh of positive relief.

To his own as well as to their amazement, Harvey turned the muzzle of
the pistol toward his face. It wabbled aimlessly. Even at such short
range he had the feeling that he would miss altogether and looked over
his shoulder to see if there was a picture or anything else on the
wall that might be damaged by the stray bullet. Then he inserted the
muzzle in his mouth.

Stupefaction held his audience. Not a hand was lifted, not a breath
was drawn. For half a second his finger clung to the trigger without
pressing it. Then he lowered the weapon.

"I guess I better go out in the hall, where the elevator is," he
said. "Don't follow me. Stay where you are. You needn't worry."

"I'll bet you ten dollars you don't do it," said Fairfax, loudly, as
he came t