Hi, it's Phoebe.

It makes me very happy to say that Criminal is going back on tour this February.

We're celebrating our 10th anniversary with a very special live show,

and tickets are available now, including a small number of meet-and-greet tickets,

for anyone who'd like to come early and say hi at a meet-and-greet before the show. Check out all the tour dates

and get your tickets today at this is criminal.com slash live. That's this is criminal.com slash live. We can't wait to see you soon. Chapter 18

The next day he did not leave the house, and indeed spent most of the time in his own

room, sick with a wild terror of dying, and yet indifferent to life

itself.

The consciousness of being hunted, snared, tracked down had begun to dominate him. If the tapestry did but tremble in the

wind, he shook. The dead leaves that were blown against the leaded pains seemed to him

like his own wasted resolutions and wild regrets.

When he closed his eyes, he saw again the sailor's face, peering through the misstained glass,

and horror seemed once more to lay its hand upon his heart.

But perhaps it had been only his fancy that had called vengeance out of the night and

set the hideous shapes of punishment before him.

Actual life was chaos, but there was something terribly logical in the imagination.

It was the imagination that set remorse to dog the feet of sin.

It was the imagination that made each crime bear its misshapen brood.

In the common world of fact, wicked were not punished nor the good rewarded.

Success was given to the strong failure thrust upon the weak. That was all.

Besides, had any stranger been prowling round the house, he would have been seen by the servants

...