“Alan, I entreat you. Think of the position I am in. Just before you came I almost fainted with terror. You may know terror yourself some day.
No! don’t think of that. Look at the matter purely from the scientific point of view. You don’t inquire where the dead things on which you experiment come from. Don’t inquire now. I have told you too much as it is. But I beg of you to do this. We were friends once, Alan.”
“Don’t speak about those days, Dorian—they are dead.”
“The dead linger sometimes.
The man upstairs will not go away. He is sitting at the table with bowed head and outstretched arms.
Alan! Alan! If you don’t come to my assistance, I am ruined. Why, they will hang me, Alan! Don’t you understand? They will hang me for what I have done.”
“There is no good in prolonging this scene. I absolutely refuse to do anything in the matter. It is insane of you to ask me.”
“You refuse?”
“Yes.”
“I entreat you, Alan.”
“It is useless.”
The same look of pity came into Dorian Gray’s eyes. Then he stretched out his hand, took a piece of paper, and wrote something on it. He read it over twice, folded it carefully, and pushed it across the table. Having done this, he got up and went over to the window.
Campbell looked at him in surprise, and then took up the paper, and opened it. As he read it, his face became ghastly pale and he fell back in