swiftly over it. Page
after page was finished and tossed aside while his friend leaned back
in his arm-chair, looking across at him with patient curiosity. At
last, with an exclamation of satisfaction, Smith sprang to his feet,
gathered his papers up into order, and laid the last one upon
Peterson's desk.

"Kindly sign this as a witness," he said.

"A witness? Of what?"

"Of my signature, and of the date. The date is the most important.
Why, Peterson, my life might hang upon it."

"My dear Smith, you are talking wildly. Let me beg you to go to bed."

"On the contrary, I never spoke so deliberately in my life. And I will
promise to go to bed the moment you have signed it."

"But what is it?"

"It is a statement of all that I have been telling you to-night. I
wish you to witness it."

"Certainly," said Peterson, signing his name under that of his
companion. "There you are! But what is the idea?"

"You will kindly retain it, and produce it in case I am arrested."

"Arrested? For what?"

"For murder. It is quite on the cards. I wish to be ready for every
event. There is only one course open to me, and I am determined to
take it."

"For Heaven's sake, don't do anything rash!"

"Believe me, it would be far more rash to adopt any other course. I
hope that we won't need to bother you, but it will ease my mind to know
that you have this statement of my motives. And now I am ready to take
your advice and to go to roost, for I want to be at my best in the
morning."

Abercrombie Smith was not an entirely pleasant man to have as an enemy.
Slow and easytempered, he was formidable when driven to action. He
brought to every purpose in life the same deliberate resoluteness which
had distinguished him as a scientific student. He had laid his studies
aside for a day, but he intended that the day should not be wasted.
Not a word did he say to his host as to his plans, but by nine o'clock
he was well on his way to Oxford.

In the High Street he stopped at Clifford's, the gun-maker's, and
bought a heavy revolver, with a box of central-fire cartridges. Six of
them he slipped into the chambers, and half-cocking the weapon, placed
it in the pocket of his coat. He then made his way to Hastie's rooms,
where the big oarsman was lounging over his breakfast, with the
Sporting Times propped up against the coffeepot.

"Hullo! What's up?" he asked. "Have some coffee?"

"No, thank you. I want you to come wi