towards Varen—I had heard old wives call it a winding-sheet. The dust of the day before lay white on the sideboard and table, disturbed only where the cards fell and by the track of our fingers. The dawn was creeping through the half-closed shutters of the window, making our faces grey and ghastly in the two lights.
Young Varen was staring at me with mad eyes, and on the table at my side lay a heap of silver. It was I who had been winning.
Varen leaned across the table and gazed into my face.
"Are you a man," he said, "or are you a devil?"
I did not answer, but that terrible thing within me broke into a laugh. The men beside me started in horror as the sound came forth and echoed round the room as though a demon were in each corner to repeat it.
Varen's hand went to his breast.
"Devil in the shape of a man," he said, "your work is done! Crudest of enemies in the guise of a friend! You won my trust and led me to this. What is pure, since you I believed so pure are as you are? What is the reward of love, since you I have loved reward
