PART II.
A police-court! In my amazement at being threatened with a policeman I let them go. I sank back upon the seat, feeling as though I had been stunned. The train started. I still sat there. My faculties were so disorganised as to render me unable to realise my situation. To have had contemptuous compassion dealt out to me as though I were a swindler and a thief!
It was only when Red Hill had been left behind that I became conscious of the fact that I had not been left alone in the carriage. My accuser remained. He himself drew my attention to his presence,
"Well, how do you feel?"
I looked up. He had placed himself on the opposite seat, right in front of me. I glared at him. He smiled. Had I obeyed the impulse of the moment I should have caught him by the throat and crushed the life right out of him. But I restrained my indignation.
"You—you villain!" He laughed—a curious, mirthless laugh. It was like adding fuel to the flame. "Do you know what you have done? You have endeavoured to put a brand of shame upon a man who never, consciously, was guilty of a dishonourable action in his life."
"Well, and how do you feel?"
"Feel! God forgive me, but I feel as though I should like to kill you."
