‘No, Robert,’ Janet cried, in tones of yearning pity, rushing to the side of the bed, and stretching out her arms towards him, ’no, here is Janet.  She is not dead—­she forgives you.’

Dempster’s maddened senses seemed to receive some new impression from her appearance.  The terror gave way to rage.

‘Ha! you sneaking hypocrite!’ he burst out in a grating voice, ’you threaten me ... you mean to have your revenge on me, do you?  Do your worst!  I’ve got the law on my side ...  I know the law ...  I’ll hunt you down like a hare ... prove it ... prove that I was tampered with ... prove that I took the money ... prove it ... you can prove nothing ... you damned psalm-singing maggots!  I’ll make a fire under you, and smoke off the whole pack of you ...  I’ll sweep you up ...  I’ll grind you to powder ... small powder ... (here his voice dropt to a low tone of shuddering disgust) ... powder on the bed-clothes ... running about ... black lice ... they are coming in swarms ...  Janet! come and take them away ... curse you! why don’t you come?  Janet!’

Poor Janet was kneeling by the bed with her face buried in her hands.  She almost wished her worst moment back again rather than this.  It seemed as if her husband was already imprisoned in misery, and she could not reach him—­his ear deaf for ever to the sounds of love and forgiveness.  His sins had made a hard crust round his soul; her pitying voice could not pierce it.

‘Not there, isn’t she?’ he went on in a defiant tone.  ’Why do you ask me where she is?  I’ll have every drop of yellow blood out of your veins if you come questioning me.  Your blood is yellow ... in your purse ... running out of your purse ...  What! you’re changing it into toads, are you?  They’re crawling ... they’re flying ... they’re flying about my head ... the toads are flying about.  Ostler! ostler! bring out my gig ... bring it out, you lazy beast . . . ha! you’ll follow me, will you? ... you’ll fly about my head ... you’ve got fiery tongues ...  Ostler! curse you! why don’t you come?  Janet! come and take the toads away ...  Janet!’

This last time he uttered her name with such a shriek of terror, that Janet involuntarily started up from her knees, and stood as if petrified by the horrible vibration.  Dempster stared wildly in silence for some months; then he spoke again in a hoarse whisper:—­’Dead ... is she dead?  She did it, then.  She buried herself in the iron chest ... she left her clothes out, though ... she isn’t dead ... why do you pretend she’s dead? ... she’s coming ... she’s coming out of the iron closet ... there are the black serpents ... stop her ... let me go ... stop her ... she wants to drag me away into the cold black water ... her bosom is black ... it is all serpents ... they are getting longer ... the great white serpents are getting longer ...’

Here Mr. Pilgrim came forward with the apparatus to bind him, but Dempster’s struggles became more and more violent.  ‘Ostler! ostler!’ he shouted, ’bring out the gig ... give me the whip!’—­and bursting loose from the strong hands that held him, he began to flog the bed-clothes furiously with his right arm.