"Come below," said the great captain. "Here, take my arm…. Only one now, you know."
"One's good enough for the French," laughed the Parson. "But, Nelson! what in the name of goodness are you doing here?"
"Why," said Nelson, stumping away, the other's arm tucked beneath his, "I heard from a—a private source—"
He brought up suddenly. A moment he stood with snoring nostrils, staring before him.
Hell had opened at his feet, and he was looking into it.
"She—"
It was the sigh of a dying soul.
"She—"
Each word was a gasp.
"She—"