I shall always date the actual hour of my complete freedom from the slavery of the red paste from that awful day I spent on the roof.

Whether it was the actual physical torture that I had endured those long hours under the burning sun, or whether it was the long and uninterrupted time that I had been given up to the horror of my own thoughts, I do not know, but at any rate from that Sunday evening I never had the very slightest desire to partake of the drug again.

Not only was I quite freed from its desire, but in forty-eight hours after the last dose was as sane and rational as I had ever been in my life.

The strange part of it was, too, that it had apparently left no evil after-effects on my mind. All the dreadful impulses and desires that had come to me with its use had all utterly passed away, leaving only the good qualities that I had derived from it behind.

Like a tornado, it had passed into me, with its mania, its confidence and its lust of crime, and like a tornado, too, it had passed away, leaving only its great confidence and strength behind.

Something of the power and sweetness of life had come to me in the intervals of that dreadful time, and the grasp I had had of them I did not relax now that I was sane again.

At first I had no great remorse at all. I was only very sorry for all the dreadful things that I had done, and very frightened, too, that I might possibly be found out, but I did not somehow blame myself. I blamed the drug, and just regarded myself as an unhappy instrument in the hands of Fate. I believed it had been ordained that all these crimes should happen, and I had simply been the unfortunate one chosen to carry them out.

I was terribly afraid of punishment, because now I had so much to live for, and I was determined to use to the very utmost all those new-born faculties that I had acquired to escape the penalties that I knew would at once follow, were I once found out.

I was quite aware that Meadows suspected me, and knew it could be only a matter of days, perhaps almost of hours, before his suspicion took some practical and unpleasant form. But I was not in the very slightest degree unnerved, and I was quite prepared to deal with any situation that might arise, with coolness, courage, and resource.

After all, I thought, they could never have anything definite against me. They might suspect, suspect, and suspect, but that would be as far as they would ever get. I couldn’t see how any actual proof existed anywhere.

So I started to live out my daily life, just as if no crimes, so far as I was concerned, had ever happened at all — and looking back now, I really don’t think I was very much worried in the early days that followed.

But in the meanwhile, I soon got news in many ways that the authorities were very busy.

On the morning after I had been up to Prospect with Mr. William in the car, I had a call at the office, from Mr. Sam Podsley. He, of course, knew that I worked for Winter and Winter, and he had no scruples at all about calling upon me there.

He was quite friendly and as voluble as ever.

“That was a real treat, Mr. Wacks,” he said heartily, “you taking us all down yesterday. I enjoyed it immensely, although it showed us all up as a lot of mugs. Oh! how waxy the police were! You should have heard the slating the Chief Commissioner gave them, after you had gone. He called them swabs, and told them it was a disgrace that they should be shown their business by a paltry little office clerk. You don’t mind my telling you, do you?”

“Not at all — not at all,” I replied laughing, “I’m very interested. Go on — tell me everything that happened.”

“Nothing much more, except that the dark, thin chap, Meadows, I think they called him, was most anxious for my friend Biggar’s address. Biggar was the chap, you remember, who met the white-faced man coming out of the gate.”

“Well,” I said feeling a little bit uncomfortable, “but Biggar said he wouldn’t recognise him again, didn’t he?”

“Sure, he said he wouldn’t know him from me except that he was white-faced, and thin. But, Lord! these police are messers any way. Just hear what’s been and happened today.

“At ten minutes to seven this morning the darned telephone bell started to ring like blazes. I was in bed, but, of course, hopped out at once. It was a message from the police station in Victoria Square, and a pretty curt one, too. They were sending up two men to look over the house, and would I please afford them all facilities, &c. Of course, I said ‘yes,’ and told Mrs. Sam they were coming. She was in an awful state at once — you know what women are — and said the place wasn’t fit for anyone to see. Such a lot of people have been messing about, these last two days. So up she gets in an awful hurry, and commences to clean up. She washes all round the verandah, and pays special attention to the verandah post, up which that beggar must have climbed; several of us had shinned up yesterday, to show how easily it could be done.

“Well, hardly had she finished, and before even any of it was really dry, up come two strange chaps with the detective fellow Meadows, again! What do you think they came for? — Finger-prints, my boy, finger-prints. Oh! wasn’t there just a rumpus. My wife had been and washed them all out! You should have seen their faces and the scowl that detective had. I tell you their jaw just put my back up and I told them so, straight.”

“‘Why the tarnation didn’t you say what you were coming up for, and everything would have been all right,’ I told them. It’s just that damn secretive want of confidence in anybody, that always spoils the police. One thing, they didn’t stop long when I answered back.”

“Did they take any photographs,” I asked, a great deal more interested than he imagined.

“Not a damn one,” he replied, picking up his hat, “they never even undid their bag of tricks. But I must be going now, Mr. Wacks, I’m in the building line, you know, and fairly pushed just now. If you ever want a cozy home, by-the-by, just ring up Sam Podsley — will you? I’ll do you well, I promise, and throw in a couple of coats of paint or so for the pleasure you have given me over this affair. Good-bye — my boy — good-bye,” and off he trotted in high good humor with himself.

His visit set me wondering what another near escape I must have had. I had never thought of finger-prints and there were sure to have been some on the verandah post before the energetic Mrs. Podsley had washed them off. Thank goodness, I thought, there would have been none on the roof — the Sunday evening rain would have seen to that. What a sell for Meadows again.

Meadows — on and off — was a lot in my thoughts that day, and directly I got home that evening he loomed up large again.

He had been searching my bedroom. I was quite certain about it the very moment I first opened the door. I have always a very keen sense of smell and the room smelt as if it had been lately occupied; stuffy and close.

It had been a piping hot day and Mrs. Bratt was always most particular, as I knew, to keep all the doors and windows tightly closed until well after sundown, to keep out the heat.

There was a strange smell about that did not belong to me. I opened the door of my cupboard, where I kept my clothes. Exactly, they had all been moved and taken off their pegs.

I had expected something of this was going to happen, and, in preparation for it, had that morning most carefully noted the position of all belongings in the room. My coat and trousers I had hung up in a certain way and my boots and shoes, although apparently all carelessly disposed, had each their own particular and peculiar position that I had impressed upon my mind.

Everything had been moved and examined. Even the linoleum on the floor had been lifted up all round the edges and the grating in the chimney had been taken down.

I made a most interested and careful scrutiny of everything to see how far he might have gone, but nothing seemed to have been altered or abstracted until almost at the last, I found something had been done to the heels of my two pairs of shoes.

It was only a very little thing, and if I had not been looking purposely for something of the kind I should not have stood the ghost of a chance of noticing it.

A little piece of each heel, where it faced the instep, had been sharply cut away on one side. It was only a very little piece that had been taken out, but it made the heel unsymmetrical, and to anyone who was expressly looking for it the impression of the heel would make in the ground would very easily be recognised anywhere, out of many thousands of others.

Evidently, I thought, friend Meadows hoped to find this peculiar imprint of my heel upon the scene of some future crime.

My discoveries amused me not a little, but at the same time, they brought home to me the determined nature of the man I had up against me.

I didn’t go to head-quarters at all that evening. I knew Meadows would be expecting me to go up there as usual, and would probably be arranging to have me followed for the night.

I went to see Lucy and took her out for a walk in the dark.

Dear little Lucy; she flushed so prettily when she saw me, and when I bent to kiss her she strained me close and whispered she had been wanting me all day.

“You know, dear,” she said later with her face very near to mine. “I didn’t want anyone at all, until the day you put your arms round me for the first time. Then the way you kissed me gave me such delicious thrills, and I seem to have been quite different ever since. When I don’t see you now, I’m so lonely and unsatisfied, and I just long for you to come every evening.”

I kissed her fondly as we sat under the trees in the park, and full of delightful thoughts we brooded over all the happ............