Conclusion

⁠​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌⁠I put down the Manuscript, and glanced across at Tonnison: he was sitting, staring out into the dark. I waited a minute; then I spoke.

"Well?" I said.

He turned, slowly, and looked at me. His thoughts seemed to have gone out of him into a great distance.

"Was he mad?" I asked, and indicated the MS., with a half nod.

Tonnison stared at me, unseeingly, a moment; then, his wits came back to him, and, sud