“The grave yon, where no grass grows,” he muttered.
“Yes, yes. Why doesn’t it grow there?”
“Ask the——”
“Ask whom? I’m listening.”
“It’s he—oh, my God!”
I saw the terror creep and flutter behind the surface of his skin. I saw it leap out and heard a yell, as his eyes escaped their thraldom; and on the instant the attendant was there and struggling with him.
In the shock of it I jumped up and turned—and saw Dr. Crackenthorpe standing in the doorway.
I ran at him in a sort of frenzy.
“What do you want?” I cried; “what are you here for?”
I think I was about to strike him, when the wizened figure of the doctor who had given me permission to enter thrust itself between us.