It is all set, then. The cumulative effect. The breaking point. Affronted in his instincts as a host — shamed before his fellow men, writhing under the knowledge that they are quite convinced he has not got the guts to do anything but submit meekly to bullying — and then the key words of escape. The rook rifle, accidents —

man who shot his brother — and suddenly, bobbing up, his wife's head ... "Quite safe — an accident ... I'll show them ... I'll show her ... damn her! I wish she was dead ... She shall be dead!"

He did not kill her, Hastings. Myself, I think that, even as he fired, instinctively he missed because he wanted to miss. And afterwards — afterwards the evil spell was broken. She was his wife, the woman he loved in spite of everything. One of Norton's crimes that did not quite come off.

Ah, but his next attempt! Do you realize, Hastings, that it was you who came next? Throw your mind back — recall everything. You, my honest, kindly Hastings!

He found every weak spot in your mind — yes, and every decent and conscientious one, too.

Allerton is the type of man you instinctively dislike and fear. He is the type of man that you think ought to be abolished. And everything you heard about him and thought about him was true. Norton tells you a certain story about him — an entirely true story as far as the facts go. (Though actually the girl concerned was a neurotic type and came of poor stock.)

It appeals to your conventional and somewhat old-fashioned instincts. This man is the villain, the seducer, the man who ruins girls and drives them to suicide! Norton induces Boyd Carrington to tackle you also. You are impelled to "speak to Judith." Judith, as could be predicted, immediately responds by saying she will do as she chooses with her life. That makes you believe the worst.

See now the different stops on which Norton plays. Your love for your child. The intense old-fashioned sense of responsibility that a man like you feels for his children. The slight self-importance of your nature. "I must do something. It all depends on me. " Your feeling of helplessness owing to the lack of your wife's wise judgment. Your loyalty — I must not fail her. And, on the baser side, your vanity —

through association with me you have learned all the tricks of the trade! And lastly, that inner feeling which most men have about their daughters — a father's unreasoning jealousy and dislike for the man who takes his daughter away from him. Norton played, Hastings, like a virtuoso on all these times. And you responded.

You accept things too easily at their face value. You always have done. You accepted quite easily the fact that it was Judith to whom Allerton was talking in the summerhouse. Yet you did not see her, you did not even hear her speak. And incredibly, even the next morning, you still thought it was Judith. You rejoiced because she had "changed her mind."