He tried to drag in Theodore's name; but this I, of course, prevented.
But, finally, why, _why_, WHY, after all my promises of fidelity, must I
thus cruelly desert him? Then came my trump card: I have spent my last
penny; while I stay, I'm a beggar. The remainder of this extraordinary
scene I have no power to describe: how the _bonhomme_, touched,
inflamed, inspired, by the thought of my destitution, and at the same
time annoyed, perplexed, bewildered at having to commit himself to doing
anything for me, worked himself into a nervous frenzy which deprived him
of a clear sense of the value of his words and his actions; how I,
prompted by the irresistible spirit of my desire to leap astride of his
weakness and ride it hard to the goal of my dreams, cunningly contrived
to keep his spirit at the fever-point, so that strength and reason and
resistance should burn themselves out. I shall probably never again have
such a sensation as I enjoyed to-night--actually feel a heated human
heart throbbing and turning and struggling in my grasp; know its pants,
its spasms, its convulsions, and its final senseless quiescence. At
half-past one o'clock Mr. Sloane got out of his chair, went to his
secretary, opened a private drawer, and took out a folded paper. "This
is my will," he said, "made some seven weeks ago. If you will stay with
me I will destroy it."

"Really, Mr. Sloane," I said, "if you think my purpose is to exert any
pressure upon your testamentary inclinations--"

"I will tear it in pieces," he cried; "I will burn it up! I shall be as
sick as a dog to-morrow; but I will do it. A-a-h!"

He clapped his hand to his side, as if in sudden, overwhelming pain,
and sank back fainting into his chair. A single glance assured me that
he was unconscious. I possessed myself of the paper, opened it, and