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