His mind ran constantly upon theft, forgery, burglary, and
murder; but he could frame no scheme which did not involve risks that
turned him sick. If he could hit upon something where he might furnish
the brains, and Sam the physical force and the risk! He dwelt upon this
day and night. He urged Sam to talk of his own troubles; of the
Matchins; at last, of Maud and his love, and it was not long before the
tortured fellow had told him what he saw in the rose-house. Strangely
enough, the thought of his fiancee leaning on the shoulder of another
man did not in the least diminish the ardor of Offitt. His passion was
entirely free from respect or good-will. He used the story to whet the
edge of Sam's hatred against Farnham.
"Why, Sam, my boy," he would say, "your honor is at stake."
"I would as soon kill him as eat," Sam answered. "But what good would
that do me? She cares no more for me than she does for you."
Offitt was sitting alone in his room one afternoon; his eyes were
staring blankly at the opposite wall; his clinched hands were cold as
ice. He had been sitting in that way motionless for an hour, a prey to
a terrible excitement.
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