The stenographer was busy with his papers, and the other two stood with their backs to him.

If help was to come it must come now.

This he realized, with a sudden graying of his face which took from it the last vestige of that youthfulness which had been its distinguishing feature; and the finger which had fumbled from time to time in his vest-pocket stole thither once more, bringing forth a little vial which in another moment he raised to his lips.
Was there no one to see?
No one to stop him?
No, the stenographer was closing up his bag; and the two officials deep in conversation.

He could drain the last drop unseen.
But the sound of the little vial crashing upon the hearthstone whither he had flung it broke the quiet and startled the District Attorney forward in a doubt bordering upon terror.
"What is that ?" he asked, pointing to the fragments that had just missed the ash heap.
"It contained oblivion," was the answer given him in steady tones.

"Do you wonder that I sought it?
Nothing can save me.