Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. Brendon and I returned from the ‘Unusual,’ and found him lying in my room shot through the lungs. He wondered if these abnormal mental activities presaged illness. He did not come out of his chloroform coma and sailed weakly to his death. “I have signed a statement that I shot myself; bad trade and drink, both true—both true. It’s for you to say if I may sit on it. 6.
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