that day to this. An experiment with haschisch, a good deal later, an account of which I wrote for my paper at the time, had no "desire" in it. Foolish and dangerous though the experiment was, of course, the cannabis indica was not taken for indulgence, nor to bring a false temporary happiness into a life I loathed. I did it to earn a little extra money; Kay did it with me; three times in all we took it. Some of the effects I tried to describe years later in the first story of a book, "John Silence."
My decision, with the steps I had taken, to arrest Boyde, I told to the doctor on the afternoon following the discovery of his treachery with my letters. He approved. This time even his Jekyll personality approved.
"You'll never catch him though," he growled. "He's too clever for you. He'll hear about the warrant and be out of the State in a day, if not out of the country. In Canada they can't touch him. Besides, the police won't stir a finger. Oh, you'll never catch him."
I felt otherwise, however, I meant to catch him, while at the same time I did not want to. The horrible man-hunt began that very night.
