caustic, and sometimes offend people at first sight; but I am a
good friend at heart to such as you.'

'Since Marjory was taken,' returned Will, 'I declare before God you
were the only friend I had to look for.' So the pair went arm-in-

arm across the courtyard.
One of the servants awoke about this time and heard the noise of

horses pawing before he dropped asleep again; all down the valley
that night there was a rushing as of a smooth and steady wind

descending towards the plain; and when the world rose next morning,
sure enough Will o' the Mill had gone at last upon his travels.

MARKHEIM
'YES,' said the dealer, 'our windfalls are of various kinds. Some

customers are ignorant, and then I touch a dividend on my superior
knowledge. Some are dishonest,' and here he held up the candle, so

that the light fell strongly on his visitor, 'and in that case,' he
continued, 'I profit by my virtue.'

Markheim had but just entered from the daylight streets, and his
eyes had not yet grown familiar with the mingled shine and darkness

in the shop. At these pointed words, and before the near presence
of the flame, he blinked painfully and looked aside.

The dealerchuckled. 'You come to me on Christmas Day,' he
resumed, 'when you know that I am alone in my house, put up my

shutters, and make a point of refusing business. Well, you will
have to pay for that; you will have to pay for my loss of time,

when I should be balancing my books; you will have to pay, besides,
for a kind of manner that I remark in you to-day very strongly. I

am the essence of discretion, and ask no awkward questions; but
when a customer cannot look me in the eye, he has to pay for it.'

The dealer once more chuckled; and then, changing to his usual
business voice, though still with a note of irony, 'You can give,

as usual, a clear account of how you came into the possession of
the object?' he continued. 'Still your uncle's cabinet? A

remarkable collector, sir!'
And the little pale, round-shouldered dealer stood almost on tip-

toe, looking over the top of his gold spectacles, and nodding his
head with every mark of disbelief. Markheim returned his gaze with

one of infinite pity, and a touch of horror.
'This time,' said he, 'you are in error. I have not come to sell,

but to buy. I have no curios to dispose of; my uncle's cabinet is
bare to the wainscot; even were it still intact, I have done well

on the Stock Exchange, and should more likely add to it than
otherwise, and my errand to-day is simplicity itself. I seek a

Christmas present for a lady,' he continued, waxing more fluent as
he struck into the speech he had prepared; 'and certainly I owe you

every excuse for thus disturbing you upon so small a matter. But
the thing was neglected yesterday; I must produce my little

compliment at dinner; and, as you very well know, a rich marriage
is not a thing to be neglected.'

There followed a pause, during which the dealer seemed to weigh
this statement incredulously. The ticking of many clocks among the

curious lumber of the shop, and the faint rushing of the cabs in a
near thoroughfare, filled up the interval of silence.

'Well, sir,' said the dealer, 'be it so. You are an old customer
after all; and if, as you say, you have the chance of a good

marriage, far be it from me to be an obstacle. Here is a nice
thing for a lady now,' he went on, 'this hand glass - fifteenth

century, warranted; comes from a good collection, too; but I
reserve the name, in the interests of my customer, who was just

like yourself, my dear sir, the nephew and sole heir of a
remarkable collector.'

The dealer, while he thus ran on in his dry and biting voice, had
stooped to take the object from its place; and, as he had done so,

a shock had passed through Markheim, a start both of hand and foot,
a sudden leap of many tumultuous passions to the face. It passed

as swiftly as it came, and left no trace beyond a certain trembling
of the hand that now received the glass.

'A glass,' he said hoarsely, and then paused, and repeated it more
clearly. 'A glass? For Christmas? Surely not?'

'And why not?' cried the dealer. 'Why not a glass?'
Markheim was looking upon him with an indefinable expression. 'You

ask me why not?' he said. 'Why, look here - look in it - look at
yourself! Do you like to see it? No! nor I - nor any man.'

The little man had jumped back when Markheim had so suddenly
confronted him with the mirror; but now, perceiving there was

nothing worse on hand, he chuckled. 'Your future lady, sir, must
be pretty hard favoured,' said he.

'I ask you,' said Markheim, 'for a Christmas present, and you give
me this - this damnedreminder of years, and sins and follies -

this hand-conscience! Did you mean it? Had you a thought in your
mind? Tell me. It will be better for you if you do. Come, tell

me about yourself. I hazard a guess now, that you are in secret a
very charitable man?'

The dealer looked closely at his companion. It was very odd,
Markheim did not appear to be laughing; there was something in his

face like an eager sparkle of hope, but nothing of mirth.
'What are you driving at?' the dealer asked.

'Not charitable?' returned the other, gloomily. Not charitable;
not pious; not scrupulous; unloving, unbeloved; a hand to get

money, a safe to keep it. Is that all? Dear God, man, is that
all?'

'I will tell you what it is,' began the dealer, with some
sharpness, and then broke off again into a chuckle. 'But I see

this is a love match of yours, and you have been drinking the
lady's health.'

'Ah!' cried Markheim, with a strange curiosity. 'Ah, have you been
in love? Tell me about that.'

'I,' cried the dealer. 'I in love! I never had the time, nor have
I the time to-day for all this nonsense. Will you take the glass?'

'Where is the hurry?' returned Markheim. 'It is very pleasant to
stand here talking; and life is so short and insecure that I would

not hurry away from any pleasure - no, not even from so mild a one
as this. We should rather cling, cling to what little we can get,

like a man at a cliff's edge. Every second is a cliff, if you
think upon it - a cliff a mile high - high enough, if we fall, to

dash us out of every feature of humanity. Hence it is best to talk
pleasantly. Let us talk of each other: why should we wear this

mask? Let us be confidential. Who knows, we might become
friends?'

'I have just one word to say to you,' said the dealer. 'Either
make your purchase, or walk out of my shop!'

'True true,' said Markheim. 'Enough, fooling. To business. Show
me something else.'

The dealer stooped once more, this time to replace the glass upon
the shelf, his thin blond hair falling over his eyes as he did so.

Markheim moved a little nearer, with one hand in the pocket of his
greatcoat; he drew himself up and filled his lungs; at the same

time many different emotions were depicted together on his face -
terror, horror, and resolve, fascination and a physical repulsion;

and through a haggard lift of his upper lip, his teeth looked out.
'This, perhaps, may suit,' observed the dealer: and then, as he

began to re-arise, Markheim bounded from behind upon his victim.
The long, skewerlike dagger flashed and fell. The dealer struggled

like a hen, striking his temple on the shelf, and then tumbled on
the floor in a heap.

Time had some score of small voices in that shop, some stately and
slow as was becoming to their great age; others garrulous and

hurried. All these told out the seconds in an intricate, chorus of
tickings. Then the passage of a lad's feet, heavily running on the

pavement, broke in upon these smaller voices and startled Markheim
into the consciousness of his surroundings. He looked about him

awfully. The candle stood on the counter, its flame solemnly
wagging in a draught; and by that inconsiderable movement, the

whole room was filled with noiseless bustle and kept heaving like a
sea: the tall shadows nodding, the gross blots of darkness swelling

and dwindling as with respiration, the faces of the portraits and