st he got up from the sofa on which he had been lying,
went over to it, and, having unlocked it, touched some hidden spring. A
triangular drawer passed slowly out. His fingers moved instinctively
towards it, dipped in, and closed on something. It was a small Chinese
box of black and gold-dust lacquer, elaborately wrought, the sides
patterned with curved waves, and the silken cords hung with round
crystals and tasselled in plaited metal threads. He opened it. Inside
was a green paste, waxy in lustre, the odour curiously heavy and
persistent.

He hesitated for some moments, with a strangely immobile smile upon his
face. Then shivering, though the atmosphere of the room was terribly
hot, he drew himself up, and glanced at the clock. It was twenty minutes
to twelve. He put the box back, shutting the cabinet doors as he did so,
and went into his bedroom.

As midnight was striking bronze blows upon the dusky air, Dorian Gray
dressed commonly, and with a muffler wrapped round his throat, crept
quietly out of the house. In Bond Street he found a hansom with a good
horse. He hailed it, and in a low voice gave the driver an address.

The man shook his head. "It is too far for me," he muttered.

"Here is a sovereign for you," said Dorian. "You shall have another if
you drive fast."

"All right, sir," answered the man, "you will be there in an hour," and
after his fare had got in he turned his horse round, and drove rapidly
towards the river.

CHAPTER XVI

A cold rain began to fall, and the blurred street-lamps looked ghastly
in the dripping mist. The public-houses were just closing, and dim men
and women were clustering in broken groups round their doors. From some
of the bars came the sound of horrible laughter. In others, drunkards
brawled and screamed.

Lying back in the hansom, with his hat pulled over his forehead, Dorian
Gray watched with listless eyes the sordid shame of the great city, and
now and then he repeated to himself the words that Lord Henry had said
to him on the first day they had met, "To cure the soul by means of the
senses, and the senses by means of the soul." Yes, that was the secret.
He had often tried it, and would try it again now. There were
opium-dens, where one could buy oblivion, dens of horror where the
memory of old sins could be destroyed by the madness of sins that were
new.

The moon hung low in the sky like a yellow skull. From time to time a
huge misshapen cloud stretched a