He could not put aside the impression that Murray, the bibulous Murray, was also regarding him in the light of an executioner.

Somewhere back in his memory there was aroused an old story about the citizens who sat up all night to watch for the coming of the hangman who was to do a grewsome thing at dawn.

He tried to shake off the feeling, he tried to laugh at the fantastic notion that had so swiftly assailed him.

"I think I shall go to my room.

Call me, if I am needed." He did not want to see Anne.