but he does disliketaking other people's responsibilities on his

own shoulders.
'These conditions being agreed to, the Countess calls in the Baron,

who has been waiting events in the next room.
'He is informed that the Courier has yielded to temptation;

but he is still too cautious to make any compromising remarks.
Keeping his back turned on the bed, he shows a bottle to the Countess.

It is labelled "Chloroform." She understands that my Lord is to be
removed from his room in a convenient state of insensibility.

In what part of the palace is he to be hidden? As they open
the door to go out, the Countess whispers that question

to the Baron. The Baron whispers back, "In the vaults!"
The curtain falls.'

CHAPTER XXVIII
So the Second Act ended.

Turning to the Third Act, Henry looked wearily at the pages
as he let them slip through his fingers. Both in mind and body,

he began to feel the need of repose.
In one important respect, the later portion of the manuscript

differed from the pages which he had just been reading.
Signs of an overwrought brain showed themselves, here and there,

as the outline of the play approached its end. The writing" target="_blank" title="n.笔迹；书法">handwriting grew
worse and worse. Some of the longer sentences were left unfinished.

In the exchange of dialogue, questions and answers were not always
attributed respectively to the right speaker. At certain intervals

the writer's failing intelligence seemed to recover itself for a while;
only to relapse again, and to lose the thread of the narrative more

hopelessly than ever.
After reading one or two of the more coherent passages Henry recoiled

from the ever-darkening horror of the story. He closed the manuscript,
heartsick and exhausted, and threw himself on his bed to rest.

The door opened almost at the same moment. Lord Montbarry entered
the room.

'We have just returned from the Opera,' he said; 'and we have heard
the news of that miserable woman's death. They say you spoke

to her in her last moments; and I want to hear how it happened.'
'You shall hear how it happened,' Henry answered; 'and more than that.

You are now the head of the family, Stephen; and I feel bound,
in the position which oppresses me, to leave you to decide what ought

to be done.'
With those introductory words, he told his brother how the Countess's

play had come into his hands. 'Read the first few pages,' he said.
'I am anxious to know whether the same impression is produced on both

of us.'
Before Lord Montbarry had got half-way through the First Act,

he stopped, and looked at his brother. 'What does she mean
by boasting of this as her own invention?' he asked. 'Was she

too crazy to remember that these things really happened?'
This was enough for Henry: the same impression had been produced

on both of them. 'You will do as you please,' he said.
'But if you will be guided by me, spare yourself the reading

of those pages to come, which describe our brother's terrible
expiation of his heartless marriage.'

'Have you read it all, Henry?'
'Not all. I shrink的过去式">shrank from reading some of the latter part of it.

Neither you nor I saw much of our elder brother after we left school;
and, for my part, I felt, and never scrupled to express my feeling,

that he behaved infamously to Agnes. But when I read that unconscious
confession of the murderousconspiracy to which he fell a victim,

I remembered, with something like remorse, that the same mother bore us.
I have felt for him to-night, what I am ashamed to think I never felt for

him before.'
Lord Montbarry took his brother's hand.

'You are a good fellow, Henry,' he said; 'but are you quite
sure that you have not been needlessly distressing yourself?

Because some of this crazy creature's writingaccidentally" target="_blank" title="ad.偶然地">accidentally tells
what we know to be the truth, does it follow that all the rest is

to be relied on to the end?'
'There is no possible doubt of it,' Henry replied.

'No possible doubt?' his brother repeated. 'I shall go
on with my reading, Henry--and see what justification

there may be for that confidentconclusion of yours.'
He read on steadily, until he had reached the end of the Second Act.

Then he looked up.
'Do you really believe that the mutilated remains which you

discovered this morning are the remains of our brother?' he asked.
'And do you believe it on such evidence as this?'

Henry answered silently by a sign in the affirmative.
Lord Montbarry checked himself--evidently on the point of entering

an indignant protest.
'You acknowledge that you have not read the later scenes

of the piece,' he said. 'Don't be childish, Henry! If you
persist in pinning your faith on such stuff as this, the least

you can do is to make yourself thoroughly acquainted with it.
Will you read the Third Act? No? Then I shall read it to you.'

He turned to the Third Act, and ran over those fragmentary passages
which were clearly enough written and expressed to be intelligible

to the mind of a stranger.
'Here is a scene in the vaults of the palace,' he began. 'The victim

of the conspiracy is sleeping on his miserable bed; and the Baron
and the Countess are considering the position in which they stand.

The Countess (as well as I can make it out) has raised the money
that is wanted by borrowing on the security of her jewels at Frankfort;

and the Courier upstairs is still declared by the Doctor to have
a chance of recovery. What are the conspirators to do, if the man

does recover? The cautious Baron suggests setting the prisoner free.
If he ventures to appeal to the law, it is easy to declare that he is

subject to insanedelusion, and to call his own wife as witness.
On the other hand, if the Courier dies, how is the sequestrated

and unknown nobleman to be put out of the way? Passively, by letting
him starve in his prison? No: the Baron is a man of refined tastes;

he dislikes needlesscruelty. The active policy remains--
say, assassination by the knife of a hired bravo? The Baron

objects to trusting an accomplice; also to spending money on anyone
but himself. Shall they drop their prisoner into the canal?

The Baron declines to trust water; water will show him on the surface.
Shall they set his bed on fire? An excellent idea; but the smoke

might be seen. No: the circumstances being now entirely altered,
poisoning him presents the easiest way out of it. He has simply

become a superfluous person. The cheapest poison will do.--
Is it possible, Henry, that you believe this consultation" target="_blank" title="n.商量；会诊；查阅">consultation really

took place?'
Henry made no reply. The succession of the questions that had just

been read to him, exactly followed the succession of the dreams
that had terrified Mrs. Norbury, on the two nights which she had

passed in the hotel. It was useless to point out this coincidence
to his brother. He only said, 'Go on.'

Lord Montbarry turned the pages until he came to the next
intelligible passage.

'Here,' he proceeded, 'is a double scene on the stage--so far as I can
understand the sketch of it. The Doctor is upstairs, innocentlywriting

his certificate of my Lord's decease, by the dead Courier's bedside.
Down in the vaults, the Baron stands by the corpse of the poisoned lord,

preparing the strong chemical acids which are to reduce it
to a heap of ashes--Surely, it is not worth while to trouble

ourselves with deciphering such melodramatic horrors as these?
Let us get on! let us get on!'

He turned the leaves again; attempting vainly to discover the meaning
of the confused scenes that followed. On the last page but one,

he found the last intelligible sentences.
'The Third Act seems to be divided,' he said, 'into two Parts

or Tableaux. I think I can read the writing at the beginning
of the Second Part. The Baron and the Countess open the scene.

The Baron's hands are mysteriously concealed by gloves.
He has reduced the body to ashes by his own system of cremation,

with the exception of the head--'
Henry interrupted his brother there. 'Don't read any more!'