They talked on various subjects, and Heathman informed Mr. Baskerville that he would soon be a great-uncle.
"Rupert's wife be going to have a babby—that's the last news. I heard it yester-eve at 'The White Thorn.'"
"Is that so? They might have told me, you'd think. Yet none has. They kept it from me."
"Holding it for a surprise; or maybe they didn't think 'twould interest you."
"No doubt that was the reason," answered Humphrey.
And then he spoke no more, but worked his own thoughts into a ferment of jealous bitterness until the village was reached. Arrived, he took no leave of Heathman, but forgot his presence and hastened to the inn. Nathan was standing at the door in his apron, and the brothers entered together.
"What's this I hear?" said Humphrey as they entered the other's private chamber.
"Well, I'm ill, to be frank. In fact, very ill. I'd hoped to hide it up till after the wedding; but my voice has pretty well gone, you see. Gone for good. You'll never hear it again. But that won't trouble you much—eh?"
"I should have marked something wrong when last we met, no doubt. But you angered me a bit, and angry men are like drunken ones; their senses fail them. I didn't see or hear what had happed to you. Now I look and listen, I mark you're bad. What does the doctor say?"
"'Tis what he don't say. But I've got it out of him. He took me to Plymouth a month ago—to some very clever man there. I've talked such a lot in my life that I deserve to be struck dumb—such a chatterbox as I have been."