“You’re not safe anywhere — right now!” said Middleton earnestly. “I tell you, Blefken, this thing is unbelievable! You think that I’ve lost my senses. I have, in a way.
“I tried to be calm for a long while, but” — his voice became extremely low — “when I saw that I couldn’t stop it — after I tried to forget—”
“You tried to forget?” Blefken’s tone was kindly.
“Yes,” answered Middleton. “I’m taking it easier now, Blefken. You must make allowances. Let me talk generally — I can’t give you facts all at once.
“I knew there was danger. It was coming to me, too, unless I promised to play my part. I agreed — wrongly, of course. Then I broke away — and tried to forget. Do you understand?”
“I follow you, in a way,” said Blefken frankly. “Go on. I am interested.”
“I could forget, for a while, because — well, I was able to forget. Then I began thinking about my page — about the danger that would be mine some day. Just because I had gone away — sick of it all.
“I’m a criminal, Blefken; not by action, but in spirit. I stopped before it came to deed instead of wish. When I began to think about my own danger, I worried about others.
“One lightning shaft struck. I waited. Two more were in the making. I tried to stop them. I failed. That frightened me. Then I appealed to you.
“Why to me? You have many friends in New York,” the lawyer spoke.