‘I have no desire for revenge upon society.’

’To be sure, you have not sat through the long black night in, a cold cell with the rats, a wet rag thrown over your lacerated back, the chains eating into your flesh like the nibbling of tiny teeth, thinking of the good people who rule England, sitting at their blazing fires or smiling round the laden tables.’

‘No, thank God!’

’If you had you might appreciate the subtle delight of sinning against your enemies.  I am going back to England to devote what arts I know, what cunning I have, and what attractions I can assume, to the gratification of the only passion left me.  When I think of the fair daughters and the fair sons of the comfortable middle class, Jim, I have exquisite hopes.’  Ryder rolled the cigar between his fingers, and smiled at his brother in a gentle, kindly way.  ’If I can bring an honoured son of reputable parents to taste the joys of the hulks and feel the caresses of the leaded cat, I shall, I feel, be almost reconciled to my past.  They talk of stopping transportation and abolishing the system.  I never cease to pray that the system may be spared to us.  If it is done away with before I have gratified the magnificent malice I have stored up in this breast, morsel by morsel, hoarding it with the greed of a miser, I am afraid I shall lose my faith in a just Providence.’

’This is simply hideous exclaimed Jim.  ’But you are joking.  You speak without bitterness.

’I speak without bitterness because I would not waste any jot of it.  When my moments come (and I have had a few) I desire to experience the perfect emotion.  Revenge is only sweet when it opens the flood-gates of a pent-up hatred.’

‘Richard!’ cried the young man, ’for God’s sake put this black evil out of your heart!  Here is a clean world—­come into it, take part in it with the good men.  Your soul is poisoned—­purge it.  Open your eyes to the sun.  I’ll help you!’

Ryder placed his cigar on the log beside him, and turning back the left wrist of the silk undershirt he wore, struck a match, and showed Jim a broad red wheal encircling the arm like the scar of a deep burn.

‘Would you like to see my ankle?’ he said.  ’Or my back?  It’s a pretty sight.  I am a hunted man.  But if I were not, I would not consent to sacrifice my exquisite desires merely because the sun shines and girls are merry.’

’But I have been happy.  I’ll have none of this ugly gospel of hatred and revenge.’

’Happy!  Because you are free for a moment; because you are not treated quite as a pariah because that black-eyed houri down at the shanty smiles at you?  You’ll sicken of this presently.  I tell you you must come back to your healthy hatred.  The spirit of revolt is in your blood; the contempt is with you.  I shall win you over.’

Never!  Never!’

’Happy!  Son of a mother tortured to death by a Christian people; brother of the girl driven to suicide by hate; brother of the man whom society set in hell.’  Ryder’s voice was low and musical, and his words were more dreadful than curses.  ‘You have not told me all,’ he continued.  ’Sit down, man—­tell me of your life at home there.’