Remorse--REMORSE," he repeated, rolling the word under his tongue with
an accent that was a clue to the psychology of the popular drama; and
Granice, perversely, said to himself: "If I could only have struck that
note I should have been running in six theatres at once."

He saw that from that moment McCarren's professional zeal would be
fanned by emotional curiosity; and he profited by the fact to propose
that they should dine together, and go on afterward to some music-hall
or theatre. It was becoming necessary to Granice to feel himself an
object of pre-occupation, to find himself in another mind. He took a
kind of gray penumbral pleasure in riveting McCarren's attention on his
case; and to feign the grimaces of moral anguish became a passionately
engrossing game. He had not entered a theatre for months; but he sat out
the meaningless performance in rigid tolerance, sustained by the sense
of the reporter's observation.

Between the acts, McCarren amused him with anecdotes about the audience:
he knew every one by sight, and could lift the curtain from every
physiognomy. Granice listened indulgently. He had lost all interest in
his kind, but he knew that he was himself the real centre of McCarren's
attention, and that every word the latter spoke had an indirect bearing
on his own problem.

"See that fellow over there--the little dried-up man in the third row,
pulling his moustache? HIS memoirs would be worth publishing," McCarren
said suddenly in the last entr'acte.

Granice, following his glance, recognized the detective from Allonby's
office. For a moment he had the thrilling sense that he was being
shadowed.

"Caesar, if HE could talk--!" McCarren continued. "Know who he is, of
course? Dr. John B. Stell, the biggest alienist in the country--"

Granice, with a start, bent again between the heads in front of him.
"THAT man--the fourth from the aisle? You're mistaken. That's not Dr.
Stell."

McCarren laughed. "Well, I guess I've been in court enough to know Stell
when I see him. He testifies in nearly all the big cases where they
plead insanity."

A cold shiver ran down Granice's spine, but he repeated obstinately:
"That's not Dr. Stell."

"Not Stell? Why, man, I KNOW him. Look--here he comes. If it isn't
Stell, he won't speak to me."

The little dried-up man was moving slowly up the aisle. As he neared
McCarren he made a slight gesture of recognition.

"How'do, Doctor Stell? Pretty slim show, ain't it?" t