d see the last of a broken-hearted man. And yet," he
added, looking on the boxes with a lingering regret, "I should have
liked to make quite certain. I cannot but suspect my underlings of some
mismanagement; it may be fond, but yet I cherish that idea: it may be
the weakness of a man of science, but yet," he cried, rising into some
energy, "I will never, I cannot if I try, believe that my poor dynamite
has had fair usage!"

"Five minutes!" said Somerset, glancing with horror at the timepiece.
"If you do not instantly buckle to your bag, I leave you."

"A few necessaries," returned Zero, "only a few necessaries, dear
Somerset, and you behold me ready."

He passed into the bedroom, and after an interval which seemed to draw
out into eternity for his unfortunate companion, he returned, bearing in
his hand an open Gladstone bag. His movements were still horribly
deliberate, and his eyes lingered gloatingly on his dear boxes, as he
moved to and fro about the drawing-room, gathering a few small trifles.
Last of all, he lifted one of the squares of dynamite.

"Put that down!" cried Somerset. "If what you say be true, you have no
call to load yourself with that ungodly contraband."

"Merely a curiosity, dear boy," he said persuasively, and slipped the
brick into his bag; "merely a memento of the past--ah, happy past,
bright past! You will not take a touch of spirits? no? I find you very
abstemious. Well," he added, "if you have really no curiosity to await
the event----"

"I!" cried Somerset. "My blood boils to get away."

"Well, then," said Zero, "I am ready; I would I could say, willing; but
thus to leave the scene of my sublime endeavours----"

Without further parley, Somerset seized him by the arm, and dragged him
downstairs; the hall-door shut with a clang on the deserted mansion; and
still towing his laggardly companion, the young man sped across the
square in the Oxford Street direction. They had not yet passed the
corner of the garden, when they were arrested by a dull thud of an
extraordinary amplitude of sound, accompanied and followed by a
shattering _fracas_. Somerset turned in time to see the mansion rend in
twain, vomit forth flames and smoke, and instantly collapse into its
cellars. At the same moment, he was thrown violently to the ground. His
first glance was towards Zero. The plotter had but reeled against the
garden rail; he stood there, the Gladstone bag clasped tight upon his
heart, his whole face