Wilkie Collins

“ Gracedieu took out the key and threw it through the open window, into the garden below.
Turning back into the room, he laid the folded sheet of paper on the table. That done, he spoke to me.
“I distrust my own weakness,” he said. “A dreadful necessity confronts me—I might shrink from the horrid idea, and, if I could open the door, might try to get away. Escape is impossible now. We are prisoners together. But don’t suppose that we are alone. There is a third person present, who will judge between you and me. Look there!”
He pointed solemnly to the portrait of his wife. ”

“ My anxiety to see how the doctor’s search for the key was succeeding, tempted me to approach the window. On my way to it, the tail of my coat threw down a little tray containing pens and pencils, which had been left close to the edge of the table. Slight as the noise of the fall was, it disturbed Mr. Gracedieu. He looked round vacantly.
“I have been comforted by prayer,” he told me. “The weakness of poor humanity has found strength in the Lord.” He pointed to the portrait once more: “My hands must not presume to touch it, while I am still in doubt. Take it down.” ”

“ He drew from his pocket the thing that he had hidden from me. This time, there was no concealment; he let me see that he was opening a razor. It was no time for asserting my innocence; I had to think of preserving my life. When a man is without firearms, what defence can avail against a razor in the hands of a madman? ”