"Awful hard on the old man! Who's to tell him when all this comes out?
Aw, I'd hate to do it.

I wouldn't.

There's some things even I'd not tell." Straightway this strange aspect of the case confronted Wade and gripped his soul.

He seemed to feel himself changing inwardly, as if a gray, gloomy, sodden hand, as intangible as a ghostly dream, had taken him bodily from himself and was now leading him into shadows, into drear, lonely, dark solitude, where all was cold and bleak; and on and on over naked shingles that marked the world of tragedy.

Here he must tell his tale, and as he plodded on his relentless leader forced him to tell his tale anew.
Wade recognized this as his black mood.