"Belleville," I called out, "can I help you?"
He gasped and caught his breath, turning his face towards me. To my surprise it was no longer scarlet. It had caught the hue of leather, and the eyes were mantling purple at the whites.
"I did not know the stuff was acid," I continued. "If there is anything I can do to soothe your suffering, I shall and gladly."
"You dog!" said he. "You've ruined me and now you are gloating over your handiwork."
With that, he put his hand in his bosom and began to steal in my direction. I remembered his concealed dagger and called out, "Be warned, Belleville—I can see you. Your dagger will not help you."
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" he groaned, and stopped short.
"Hugh Pinsent's voice—oh, Heaven!" cried Miss Ottley—behind me. She had awakened from her swoon.
I swung on heel and watched her rise. "Hugh!" she sighed. "Hugh—where are you, dear?" Then she saw Belleville, and the hideous apparition he presented, a black pain-tortured face hovering in mid-air, with two dark, ghostly hands outstretched before it, froze her blood. Mercifully, she swooned again and fell back senseless on the lounge. Belleville recommenced his moaning, and began walking up and down wringing his hands. I stood silent, lost in thought and wondering what I ought to do. Belleville told me. He stopped on a sudden and called my name twice, "Pinsent, Pinsent."
"Here!" said I.