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"I am so sorry for you, Alan," he murmured, "but you leave me no

alternative. I have a letter written already. Here it is. You see

the address. If you don't help me, I must send it. If you don't

help me, I will send it. You know what the result will be. But

you are going to help me. It is impossible for you to refuse now.

I tried to spare you. You will do me the justice to admit that.

You were stern, harsh, offensive. You treated me as no man has

ever dared to treat me-no living man, at any rate. I bore it all.

Now it is for me to dictate terms."

Campbell buried his face in his hands, and a shudder passed

through him.

"Yes, it is my turn to dictate terms, Alan. You know what they

are. The thing is quite simple. Come, don't work yourself into

this fever. The thing has to be done. Face it, and do it."