Read it through once

I felt that I must laugh and be merry, but the sound would not come. I felt that I must speak — but the words would not obey me. I had the coolness of the dead, whilst every nerve and fiber in my body trembled. The old men’s policemen sat and chatted, and laughed, and smoked; and I sat and smoked with them. I could not tell why I grew so cunningly careful to seem calm. I thought timberly of my own merits, and of the boldness with which I had contrived to conceal my crime.