“Don’t be afraid I’ll worry the kid!”

The stale odour of cigarette smoke with which the dim corridor was charged intoxicated, threatened to overpower him.  It seemed to be the reek of evil itself.  A closing door had a sinister meaning.  He hurried; obscurity reigned below, the light in the lower hall being out; fumbled for the door-knob, and once in the street took a deep breath and mopped his brow; but he had not proceeded half a block before he hesitated, retraced his steps, reentered the vestibule, and stooped to peer at the cards under the speaking tubes.  Cheaply printed in large script, was the name of the tenant of the second floor rear,—­miss Kate Marcy. . . .

In crossing Tower Street he was frightened by the sharp clanging of a great electric car that roared past him, aflame with light.  His brain had seemingly ceased to work, and he stumbled at the curb, for he was very tired.  The events of the day no longer differentiated themselves in his mind but lay, a composite weight, upon his heart.  At length he reached the silent parish house, climbed the stairs and searched in his pocket for the key of his rooms.  The lock yielded, but while feeling for the switch he tripped and almost fell over an obstruction on the floor.

The flooding light revealed his travelling-bags, as he had piled them, packed and ready to go to the station.

THE INSIDE OF THE CUP

By Winston Churchill

Volume 4.

XIII.  Winterbourne
XIV.  A Saturday afternoon
XV.  The crucible
XVI.  Amid the encircling gloom

CHAPTER XIII

WINTERBOURNE

I

Hodder fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, awaking during the night at occasional intervals to recall chimerical dreams in which the events of the day before were reflected, but caricatured and distorted.  Alison Parr was talking to the woman in the flat, and both were changed, and yet he identified both:  and on another occasion he saw a familiar figure surrounded by romping, ragged children—­a figure which turned out to be Eldon Parr’s!

Finally he was aroused by what seemed a summons from the unknown—­the prolonged morning whistle of the shoe factory.  For a while he lay as one benumbed, and the gradual realization that ensued might be likened to the straining of stiffened wounds.  Little by little he reconstructed, until the process became unbearable, and then rose from his bed with one object in mind,—­to go to Horace Bentley.  At first—­he seized upon the excuse that Mr. Bentley would wish to hear the verdict of Dr. Jarvis, but immediately abandoned it as dishonest, acknowledging the true reason, that in all the—­world the presence of this one man alone might assuage in some degree the terror in his soul.  For the first time in his life, since childhood, he knew a sense of utter dependence upon another human being.  He felt no shame, would make no explanation for his early visit.