did not shrink. It nominated one of its members to carry out its sentence, and now—nothing remains but to call in your help, my child.
Margaret.
[Catching her breath.] Mine?
Doctor.
Yes, yours. [Getting closer.] You've been two
months in this man's house, and must know all his
habits by this time. But we know something, too.
He goes out for a walk on the Embankment every
night about eleven—isn't that so?
Margaret.
[Stammering.] It—it may be.
Doctor.
Before he returns the household has gone to bed,
and he lets himself in with a latch-key—doesn't he?
Margaret.
Perhaps—perhaps he does.
Doctor.
After leaving his coat and hat in the hall he returns
to his own room and usually sits there alone for half
an hour longer?
Margaret.
[Breathing hard, listening intently.] Well?
Doctor.
[In a low voice, with an awful significance.] The
person appointed to carry out our purpose must be
