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And there was the fourth storey, here was the door, here was the

flat opposite, the empty one. The flat underneath the old woman's

was apparently empty also; the visiting card nailed on the door

had been torn off--they had gone away!... He was out of breath.

For one instant the thought floated through his mind, "Shall I go

back?" But he made no answer and began listening at the old

woman's door, a dead silence. Then he listened again on the

staircase, listened long and intently... then looked about him

for the last time, pulled himself together, drew himself up, and

once more tried the axe in the noose. "Am I very pale?" he

wondered. "Am I not evidently agitated? She is mistrustful....

Had I better wait a little longer... till my heart leaves off

thumping?"