Midnight
The next moment he recovers himself , and , muttering an anathema upon his cowardice , he moves noiselessly toward his room and the brandy-bottle that has been his constant companion of late . Yet , here in his own room , he can not rest . The hours go by with laggard steps . Midnight has struck , and still he paces his floor from wall to wall , half-maddened by his thoughts . Not that he relents . No feelings of repentance stir him , there is only a nervous dread of the hour when it will be necessary to produce the dead body , if only to prove his claim to the title so dearly and so infamously purchased . Is he indeed dead -- gone past recall ?