“Father!” I cried, “I’m here—don’t you know me?”—then I turned fiercely to my brother and bade him shift his position out of the range of the staring eyes.
“What’s the matter?” he muttered, sullenly. “I’ve done no harm. Can’t he see me, even, without going off into a fit?”
“Get further away; do you hear?”
He shambled aside, murmuring to himself. A little tremulous sigh issued from the throat of the poor stricken figure. I leaned over, seized the bottle of brandy from the bed, and moistened his lips with a few drops from it.
“Does that do you good, dad?”
He nodded. I could make out that he was trying to speak, and bent my head to the weak whisper.
“I saw somebody.”
“I know—I know. Never mind that now. Leave it all to me.”
“You’re my good son. You won’t let him rob me, Renny?”
“In an hour or two he shall be packed off. You needn’t even see him again.”