THE+PICTURE+OF+DORIAN+GRAY

had destroyed everything belonging to Basil Hallward. He himselfhad burned the bag and the coat. They would simply say he wasmad.Was this murder to follow him all his life?'Was he always going tosuffer because of his past? Yet what could he do? Go to the police?Never.There was only one thing they could use against him and thatwas the picture itself. He would destroy it.'Why had he kept it solong? Once it had given him pleasure to watch it changing andgrowing old. Recently he had felt no such pleasure.It had kept himawake at night.'When he had been away, he had been frightenedthat another person would see it. Just the memory of it spoiledmany moments of happiness. He would destroy it.He looked around and saw the knife that had killed BasilHallward. He had cleaned it many times until there was no mark lefton it. It was bright, and it shone. It had killed the painter. Now itwould kill the painterb work, and all that it meant.It would kill thepast. When that was dead he would be free. He picked up the knifeand pushed it into the picture.There was a cry, and a crash. The cry was so horrible thatfrightened servants woke and came out of their rooms. T+wogentlemen, who were passing in the Square beloW stopped, andlooked up at the great house. They hurried on until they met apoliceman, and brought him back. The policeman rang the bellseveral times, but there was no answer. Except for a light in one ofthe top windows, the house was all dark.After a time, he went awayand stood in the garden of the next house and watched.''Whose house is that?'asked the older of the two gentlemen.'Mr Dorian Gray's, sir,'answered the policeman.They looked at each other as they walked and laughed^way,cruelly. They knew'nvho Dorian Gray was.Inside the house the servants were talking in low whispers toeach other. Old Mrs Leaf was crying. Francis was as white as death.