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 me actually sick. Oh, the swine! The swine!”

He was wailing, this full-grown man.

“Harold and Frank were somewhere about, smoking. It was a week ago Sunday. Harold all but fainted. Frank wanted to kill him at once. He was quite insane, I think. But Basil said he must die quietly—there could be no explanation. We could see him from where we stood, walking around on the lawn with my father! Basil told us to go into the billiard-room and sent for some brandy. Then he locked both doors and took down from over the mantelpiece the sword of old Roland de Pleinpalais—a founder of our house. It has a cross for a handle, and the sun was shining on it through the window. Basil stood it up on its point between us and we all laid our hands on it and swore to kill Roakby. Then he took the helmet that goes with the sword and put four slips of paper in it with a cross on one of them—I drew it. Then we talked it all over calmly enough. I was to go to him and give him his choice of either doing it himself or being executed—that was all. That night after all the guests had gone to bed, I found $9$