[_He motions him away._ MASON _goes to him and puts his hand on his shoulder._

MASON. Decide well--

[_He hesitates a moment and then goes out Right._

STERLING. [_Watching him go._] There's not one soul in this world who cares for me, and it's my _own fault_. [RICHARD _is heard upstairs again singing "Once in Royal David's City._" STERLING _lifts his head and listens._] Yes, one little soul loves me, and it would be better for him, too, if I went away. I'll go to sleep and see how I feel about it when I wake up. [_He moves the gla.s.s of water and takes out the box of tablets. He starts suddenly, but very slightly, and his muscles tighten._]

After all, why not end it all _now_, at once, without any more bother?

[_He looks in the box, and glances up questioningly; then he remembers the fireplace where he threw the other tablets and looks across the room at the logs. He rises, goes over, and sees in the fireplace the twisted envelope which holds the other tablets. He bends over to pick it up; he stops short._] No! Why shouldn't I try it, anyway? She, herself, gives me the chance! [_He rings the electric bell, and walking away from the fireplace, takes up with a trembling hand the papers left by_ MASON; _he wipes the damp from his forehead with his handkerchief. To_ JORDAN, _who enters Left._] Light the fire quickly; I feel cold.

[_He sinks into the arm-chair, weak from the mental strain._

LEONARD. It's very warm in the house, sir.

STERLING. Do as I tell you--light the fire.

LEONARD. [_Looking for matches on the mantel, finds the box empty._]

There are no matches, sir; I must get one.

STERLING. No, don't go--here--here--

[_He gives him a match from his own box._ LEONARD _notices the trembling hand and suppressed excitement of_ STERLING, _and involuntarily glances up, but quickly looks back to his work and strikes a match. The match goes out._

LEONARD. I shall need another match, please, sir.

STERLING. [_With one in his fingers taken from his match-box, he alters his mind._] I have no more. [_He puts away his match-box._] Never mind the fire; get me a pint bottle of champagne.

LEONARD. [_With a surrept.i.tious side glance of curiosity._] Very well, sir.

[_He goes out Left._

STERLING. That was funny; that was very funny! I wonder if it was accident, or if there's such a thing as fatality. [_He goes to the fireplace and picks up the twisted envelope._] If not now--perhaps some other time--who knows? [_He thrusts the envelope in his vest pocket, and takes up the papers again from the table to look over them._] I can't read these things! [_Throwing them down._] The words mean nothing to me!

[_There is the sound outside of a cork being drawn._ LEONARD _enters with the champagne and a gla.s.s and places them beside_ STERLING.

LEONARD. Shall I light the fire now, sir?

STERLING. No, never mind now.

LEONARD. Yes, sir.

[_He goes out Left._

[STERLING _half fills the gla.s.s with champagne. He takes out the box of tablets and counts aloud._

STERLING. One, two, three, four--[_He puts all in the gla.s.s, dropping them as he counts. He hesitates, then quickly drops in two more and drinks quickly. The gla.s.s is empty. He sits by the table thinking a moment, then lakes a piece of paper and makes ready his stylographic pen._] Let me see; can I make it seem accidental; it would be so much less bother and trouble for them! [_He thinks a second, then writes._]

"I have accidentally taken an overdose of my sleeping draught. I have tried to call some one, but it's no use. I ask only one thing, that you forget all my sins, wipe out their memory with my name. I want my boy to change his name, too." [_He hesitates a moment, and then scratches that sentence heavily out._] No, I won't say that. [_He waits a moment._] G.o.d in heaven, what wouldn't I give for one friendly word just now! Some one to sort of say _good-by_ to me--take my hand--even a _servant_!

[_He looks about him, showing signs of drowsiness. The door Right bursts open._ STERLING _quickly hides the letter in his inside pocket as_ WARDEN _comes in._

WARDEN. My hat! Where's my hat!

[_He looks about for it._

STERLING. [_Quietly._] Ned?

WARDEN. My hat, I say! Where's my hat?

[_Looking._

STERLING. Ned!

[_Something in his voice arrests_ WARDEN'S _attention._

WARDEN. What? [_He looks at him._] What's the matter--

STERLING. Nothing--I'm half asleep, that's all--the reaction--I'm worn out and I've changed my mind--

WARDEN. How do you mean?

STERLING. I'm going away for good--that's the best I can do; I want you to forgive me--_could_ you? What do you say? Forgive me for everything!

For the sake of the old schoolboy days--

WARDEN. When are you going?

STERLING. To-day. Will you say good-by to me and wish me well on my journey?

WARDEN. [_Speaks without sympathy._] You can count on me always to help you in any way I can. You can still retrieve a good deal if you're strong enough.

STERLING. I know what a beastly friend I've been, and yesterday was more than any man would stand, but forgive that, too, will you? I've always been a bad lot!

WARDEN. [_Goes to him and speaks, with the sympathy of a man for a child coming into his voice._] No, a weak lot; that's been your ruin, d.i.c.kie.

I'll see you again before you go.

STERLING. No, I'm going to sleep as long as I can now, and I don't want any one to wake me up; but when I do wake, I shall have other things to do. This is good-by.

WARDEN. Well, good luck! [_He starts to go. The two men look at each other, and finally_ STERLING _gets the courage to hold out his hand._ WARDEN _hesitates a moment, then shakes it._] Good luck!

[_He goes out Left._

[STERLING, _who has been growing more and more drowsy, as soon as he is alone, goes with difficulty to the door and locks it. He is so drowsy that he leans against the door for a moment; then he starts to go back to the table, but is unable to get there and sinks on the sofa half way between the table and the door. His eyes close, but suddenly he starts violently and tries to rise, but cannot, crying out faintly._

STERLING. Good G.o.d--the money! I forgot the money--who'll pay my debts?

Ah, this is a fitting climax for my life--the weakest, dirtiest thing I've done--[_He gets the letter from his pocket and holds it in his hand; the light of the afternoon grows slowly dim, like his fading sight and senses. He murmurs twice in a faint, drowsy voice._] Coward! Coward!

[BLANCHE, _in the hall outside Right, calls his name._

BLANCHE. d.i.c.k!