“Yes, night. But it must soon be morning. Oh, Sinclair, to think that you didn’t forget me! Can you ever forgive me?”

“What then?”

“Ah, I was so hateful!”

Then I recollected our conversation. Had that taken place four, five days ago? It seemed to me like a lifetime. But suddenly I knew all. Not only what had occurred between us, but also why I had come and what Knauer wanted to do there.

“You wanted, then, to take your life, Knauer?”

He shuddered through cold and fear.

“Yes, I wanted to. I don’t know whether I could have. I wished to wait until the morning came.”

I drew him into the open. The first oblique rays of day glimmered indescribably cold through the grey atmosphere.