The next morning Dorian wrote two letters. He put one of them into his pocket and he gave the other to his servant. ‘Take this to Mr Campbell’s house at once,’ he said. While Dorian waited, he picked up a book and tried to read. But after a time the book fell from his hand. Perhaps Alan Campbell was out of England. Perhaps he would refuse to come. He was a very clever scientist, and five year before he and Dorian had been good friends. But now Alan never smiled when he met Dorian. Each minute seemed an hour to Dorian, but at last the door opened. Dorian smiled. ‘Alan!’ he said. ‘Thank you for coming.’ ‘I never wanted to enter your house again, but your letter said that it was a question of life and death.’ Said Alan Campbell. His voice was hard and cold. ‘Yes, Alan, it is. Please sit down.’ Across the table the two men’s eyes met. Dorian was silent for a moment; then, very quietly, he said, ‘Alan, in a locked room upstairs there is a dead body. I want you to destroy it. There must be nothing left. I know you can do this.’
‘I don’t want to know your terrible secrets. I refuse to help you,’ Campbell replied. ‘But you, Alan, you are the only person who can help me.’ Dorian smiled sadly.
He took a piece of paper, wrote something on it and pushed it across the table to Campbell.
