that this terrible dilemma had to come to me. For you see, Hastings, there are two sides to it. It is my work in life to save the innocent — to prevent murder — and this — this is the only way I can do it! Make no mistake. X could not be touched by the law. He was safe. By no ingenuity that I could think of could he be defeated any other way.

And yet, my friend — I was reluctant. I saw what had to be done — but I could not bring myself to do it. I was like Hamlet — eternally putting off the evil day ... And then the next attempt happened — the attempt on Mrs. Luttrell. I had been curious, Hastings, to see if your well-known flair for the obvious would work. It did. Your very first reaction was a mild suspicion of Norton. And you were quite right. Norton was the man. You had no reason for your belief — except the perfectly sound if slightly half-hearted suggestion that he was insignificant. There, I think, you came very close to the truth.

I have considered his life history with some care. He was the only son of a masterful and bossy woman. He seems to have had at no time any gift for asserting himself or for impressing his personality on other people. He has always been slightly lame and was unable to take part in games at school. One of the most significant things you told me was a remark about him having been laughed at at school for nearly being sick when seeing a dead rabbit. There, I think, was an incident that may have left a deep impression on him. He disliked blood and violence and his prestige suffered in consequence. Subconsciously, I should say, he has waited to redeem himself by being bold and ruthless. I should imagine that he began to discover quite young his own power for influencing people. He is a good listener, he has a quiet, sympathetic personality. People liked him without, at the same time, noticing him very much. He resented this — and then made use of it. He discovered how ridiculously easy it was, by using the correct words and supplying the correct stimuli, to influence his fellow creatures. The only thing necessary was to understand them — to penetrate their thoughts, their secret reactions and wishes.

Can you realize, Hastings, that such a discovery might feed a sense of power?

Here was he, Stephen Norton, whom everyone liked and despised — and he could make people do things they didn't want to do — or (mark this) thought they did not want to do.

I can visualize him developing this hobby of his ... And little by little developing a morbid taste for violence at second hand. The violence for which he lacked physical stamina and for the lack of which he had been derided.

Yes, his hobby grows and grows until it comes to be a passion, a necessity! It was a drug, Hastings — a drug that induced craving as surely as opium or cocaine might have done.