IV.
Bartlett and Cummings.
Bartlett, turning to his friend from the retreating group on which he has kept his eyes steadfastly fixed.—"Where are their keepers?" He is pale with suppressed rage.
Cummings.—"Their keepers?"
Bartlett, savagely.—"Yes! Have they escaped from them, or is it one of the new ideas to let lunatics go about the country alone? If that old fool hadn't dropped his stick, I'd have knocked him over that table in another instant. And that other old maniac,—what did she mean by pushing me back in that way? How do you account for this thing, Cummings? What do you make of it?"
Cummings.—"I don't know, upon my word. There seems to be some mystery,—some painful mystery. But the gentleman will be back directly, I suppose, and"—
Bartlett, crushing his hat over his eyes.—"I'll leave you to receive him and his mystery. I've had enough of both." He moves toward the door.
Cummings, detaining him.—"Bartlett, you're surely not going away?"
Bartlett.—"Yes, I am!"
Cummings.—"But he'll be here in a moment. He said he would come back and satisfy the claim which you certainly have to an explanation."
Bartlett, furiously.—"Claim? I've a perfect Alabama Claim to an explanation. He can't satisfy it; he shall not try. It's a little too much to expect me to be satisfied with anything he can say after what's passed. Get out of the way, Cummings, or I'll put you on top of the piano."
Cummings.—"You may throw me out of the window, if you like, but not till I've done my best to keep you here. It's a shame, it's a crime to go away. You talk about lunatics: you're a raving madman, yourself. Have one glimmer of reason, do; and see what you're about. It's a mistake; it's a misunderstanding. It's his right, it's your duty, to have it cleared up. Come, you've a conscience, Bartlett, and a clean one. Don't give way to your abominable temper. What? You won't stay? Bartlett, I blush for you!"
Bartlett.—"Blush unseen, then!" He thrusts Cummings aside and pushes furiously from the room. Cummings looks into the corridor after him, and then returns, panting, to the piano, and mechanically rearranges the things at his feet; he walks nervously away, and takes some turns up and down the room, looking utterly bewildered, and apparently uncertain whether to go or stay. But he has decided upon the only course really open to him by sinking down into one of the armchairs, when General Wyatt appears at the threshold of the door on the right of the piano. Cummings rises and comes forward in great embarrassment to meet him.