Evelyn was probably down-town at that hour, on one of the many errands she was always making for herself.
Without removing his hat or overcoat he dropped into a chair before the library fire.

A devastating weariness possessed him, but he knew he could not hide there in his home.

To-day he might, to-morrow even, but the time would come when he must go out and face the world, must listen to the endless speculation concerning Mount Hope's one great sensation, the McBride murder.

Five minutes passed while he sat lost in thought, then he quitted his chair and went to a small cabinet at the other side of the room, which he unlocked; from it he took a glass and a bottle.
With these he returned to his place before the fire and poured himself a stiff drink.
"I was mad!" he said with quivering lips.

"Mad!" he repeated, and again he passed his shaking hand across his eyes.