I would remind you that chronic alcoholism is a recognized form,
of insanity."
His mood changed again, and sighing wearily, he lay back in the chair.
Over his pale face crept an expression which I knew, instinctively, to
mean that he was thinking of his wife.
"Mr. Harley," he said, speaking in a very low tone which scorned to
accentuate the beauty of his voice, "I have suffered much in the quest
of truth. Suffering is the gate beyond which we find compassion.
Perhaps you have thought my foregoing remarks frivolous, in view of the
fact that last night a soul was sent to its reckoning almost at my
doors. I revere the truth, however, above all lesser laws and above all
expediency. I do not, and I cannot, regret the end of the man Menendez.
But for three reasons I should regret to pay the penalty of a crime
which I did not commit, These reasons are--one," he ticked them off
upon his delicate fingers--"It would be bitter to know that Devil
Menendez even in death had injured me; two--My work in the world,
which is unfinished; and, three--My wife."
I watched and listened, almost awed by the strangeness of the man who
sat before me.
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