"'Yes, yes,' he said eagerly. 'Go on--go on.'
"'We carried you up-stairs here, the doctor and me, and undressed you and put you to bed; and when you come out of your fit he give you a sleeping draught.'
"'It's not that I want to know,' he said. 'What made me go into a fit? I never had a fit before, as I remember. O Fanny, is it all a dream?'
"'Lemon,' I answered, 'you must ask your conscience; I can't answer you. You come home with a evening paper in your pocket, a-moaning and crying, and you ketches hold of me, and looks round as if a ghost had follered you into the room, and then you falls down in your fit.'
"'And him?' he said, pointing to the ceiling. 'Him--Devlin? Was he with me? Did he see me while I was in the fit?'
"'No,' I answered. 'He come home after we'd got you to bed, and said he wanted to see you; but I wouldn't let him. I whipped up-stairs here, and turned the key, so as he shouldn't git at you.'
"'You did right, you did right. Was he angry?'
"'If he was, he didn't show it. He kep with me a long time, talking about the--the----'
"'About the what?' asked Lemon, the perspiration breaking out on him.
"'About the murder! Well may you shiver! It was in the newspaper you brought home with you, and he read it out loud, and talked about it in a way as froze my blood.'