THE JOURNALIST INTERVENES
The old man had sunk into a seat. His face and hands were twitching with fear. His eyes, as though fascinated, remained fixed upon Mannering's. All the while he mumbled to himself. Fardell drew Mannering a little on one side.
"What can we do with him?" he asked. "We might tear up those sheets, give him money, keep him soddened with drink. And even then he'd give the whole show away the moment any one got at him. It isn't so bad as he makes out, I suppose?"
"It is not so bad as that," Mannering answered, "but it is bad enough."
"What became of the woman?" Fardell asked. "Parkins's mistress, I mean?"
"She is my wife," Mannering answered.
Fardell threw out his hands with a little gesture of despair.
"We must get him away from here," he said. "If Polden gets hold of him you might as well resign at once. It is dangerous for you to stay. He was evidently expecting that fellow Ronaldson to-night."
Mannering nodded.
"What shall you do with him?" he asked.