I'm fifty, and I'm beaten, and I know it."
His chin dropped forward on his breast. "I want to chuck the whole
business," he ended.

III

It was after midnight when Ascham left.

His hand on Granice's shoulder, as he turned to go--"District Attorney
be hanged; see a doctor, see a doctor!" he had cried; and so, with an
exaggerated laugh, had pulled on his coat and departed.

Granice turned back into the library. It had never occurred to him that
Ascham would not believe his story. For three hours he had explained,
elucidated, patiently and painfully gone over every detail--but without
once breaking down the iron incredulity of the lawyer's eye.

At first Ascham had feigned to be convinced--but that, as Granice now
perceived, was simply to get him to expose himself, to entrap him into
contradictions. And when the attempt failed, when Granice triumphantly
met and refuted each disconcerting question, the lawyer dropped the mask
suddenly, and said with a good-humoured laugh: "By Jove, Granice you'll
write a successful play yet. The way you've worked this all out is a
marvel."

Granice swung about furiously--that last sneer about the play inflamed
him. Was all the world in a conspiracy to deride his failure?

"I did it, I did it," he muttered sullenly, his rage spending itself
against the impenetrable surface of the other's mockery; and Ascham
answered with a smile: "Ever read any of those books on hallucination?
I've got a fairly good medico-legal library. I could send you one or two
if you like..."

Left alone, Granice cowered down in the chair before his writing-table.
He understood that Ascham thought him off his head.

"Good God--what if they all think me crazy?"

The horror of it broke out over him in a cold sweat--he sat there and
shook, his eyes hidden in his icy hands. But gradually, as he began
to rehearse his story for the thousandth time, he saw again how
incontrovertible it was, and felt sure that any criminal lawyer would
believe him.

"That's the trouble--Ascham's not a criminal lawyer. And then he's a
friend. What a fool I was to talk to a friend! Even if he did believe
me, he'd never let me see it--his instinct would be to cover the whole
thing up... But in that case--if he DID believe me--he might think it
a kindness to get me shut up in an asylum..." Granice began to tremble
again. "Good heaven! If he should bring in an expert--one of those
damned alienists! Ascham and Pettilow can d