ould take for a canoe to make the trip, and was
vaguely amused to realize that all this excitement was useless. He
experienced a feeling of triumph at the knowledge that he had succeeded
in spite of all.

A short time later he was in bed, packed in warm blankets and hot-water
bags, but through it all he maintained that distressing dumbness.
Despite the artificial heat his hands and feet tingled, as if asleep,
then became entirely numb, and he reasoned that the cocaine had begun to
affect his circulation. He noted how the chill crept upward slowly,
showing that the drug was working. On the mantel opposite he saw Muriel
smiling at him from the morocco case and realized that she was very
beautiful. After a time her outlines became less distinct, which told
him that his optic nerve was becoming affected. Next the contents of the
room grew hazy. That was quite as it should be.

He was much interested to note his heart action, which by now had become
very erratic. Every pulsation that ran through him sounded as plainly in
his ears as a drum-beat. He noticed that they were regular for a time,
then gradually increased in speed until his heart raced like a runaway
motor, then ceased suddenly, began again slowly, faintly, grew slower
and fainter, until with every flutter he thought, "This is the end!"

When this phenomenon had been repeated time after time the sick man
endeavored to assist the poison's effect. At each feeble recovery of his
heart he held his breath and strained with all his might, striving by
every force of will to stop the systolic action.

As he had often heard that men live again their evil deeds in the hour
of dissolution, and while he had perhaps more than the average number of
sins upon his soul, he determined to die thinking only of pleasant
things, if possible. He recalled his wedding-day, and pictured Muriel as
she had appeared that morning. How sweet and gentle she had been, what a
wonderful time it had proved for him. They had sailed for the
Mediterranean on the following morning, landing at Naples, where they
had spent a week. From there they had gone to Rome for three dreamlike
months and then to Nice and to Cairo, all the time in a lovers'
paradise. From Egypt they had turned back to Morocco. Yes, Morocco, and
how she had loved it there. Thence they had journeyed--where? To Spain,
of course. Murray realized that his mind was working more slowly, which
meant that the circulation to his brain was b