"You don't know a good many things," said Adrian tartly, smoothing out the newspaper, "you can go."
Dentham withdrew without a word and smiled subtly to himself when safe outside.
"Says it's his own stick," he muttered under his breath. "Oh, yes, I dare say—but your name don't begin with 'A. L.' Dr. Roversmire—there's something queer about all this; I believe he's the head of a gang of forgers and one of 'em came to see him. I'll keep my eyes open in case there's a row."
Adrian soon dismissed the episode of the stick from his mind, as he did not remember all the events of the previous night and half thought he might have lost the stick in his journey from the garden door to the house. Meantime he looked at the paper anxious to see if there was anything about his crime of the previous night. As he anticipated there was a short statement, but owing to the late hour at which the affair had taken place, a very full report had not come to hand.
The paragraph was headed "A Curious Affair," and it stated that a gentleman called Lancelot Alther, had gone up to Mr. Adrian Lancaster's rooms early in the morning and found the owner absent, and a mutual friend, Mr. Philip Trevanna, lying half-dead on the floor. He had been stunned, but on administration of remedies had revived, although he could not give any explanation of the assault as he was now in a high fever, and it was doubtful if he would recover. Mr. Lancaster had disappeared and no trace of him had been discovered.
Adrian laid down the paper with a sigh of relief as he read the news.
"I didn't kill him after all," he said in a thankful tone, "he was only stunned, and it would have been better if I had remained and explained the affair, although in any case I would certainly have been arrested. At all events, even if he does recover, it's too late now to do anything. I'm imprisoned in this body, and, unless something happens, will have no opportunity of becoming Adrian Lancaster again. I have indeed vanished completely from the world, and I don't think all the police in London will be able to trace my whereabouts. I must just wait patiently for the chapter of accidents to redeem me—curses on me for a fool in accepting Roversmire's offer so readily—I am lost to the world—to Olive and to everything else, and all by my own act. I'll wait and see if Philip Trevanna recovers, then some chance may release me from this mask of old age, and I'll be able to face my fellow men once more as Adrian Lancaster."
[Chapter VI.]
The Tortures Of Hell
There is no punishment that men can devise so terrible in its effects as remorse. Physical tortures cannot last longer than a certain period without wearing out the body, but remorse is a monster which feeds upon itself and, little by little, gains possession of the whole inner life, making outward things hateful to the sight. It was this feeling that Adrian experienced after he had surrendered his liberty to gain safety in the body of Dr. Roversmire. The memory of his crime was constantly with him, reminding him at every moment of the day that his soul was held in the bondage of an alien body, and that, even if Philip Trevanna recovered, he would be powerless to break the chain which fettered him. The deed, once done, could not be recalled, and, of his own free will, he had entered into a prison from which nothing short of a miracle could release him.