The madness, exile and redemption of Albert Moss

At home, Mary continued to worry that something was seriously wrong with her husband. The bailiff episode had spooked him more than a simple misunderstanding over a payment should. He was moody. He would say things sarcastically, then ask her if she thought he meant it. Two nights in a row he woke up in bed with a start, his face white as a sheet.

Moss worked on Friday but was restless that night. On Saturday morning, he made his wife a cup of cocoa and left for work.