"What were you trying to do, David?" Anthony snapped.
"I don't know, sir," David said vaguely, passing a hand over his eyes in a manner far too dramatic to be convincing.
"Where did you get those clothes?"
"I have no idea, sir," David murmured.
"Don't lie to me!" Anthony snapped. "What——"
"I'm not lying, sir," David said in the same vague, far-away tone. "I must have been asleep, Mr. Fry. I remember having a terrible dream—it was about father and it seemed to me that he was dying. There were doctors all about the bed and father was calling to me, and it seemed to me that I must get to him, no matter what stood in the way. I remember trying to go to him, and then—why, I must have fallen there, sir, and wakened."
For an instant the vagueness left his eyes and they looked straight at Anthony.
"May I go to father now?" he asked. "That—that dream upset me."
"Morning will do for father," Anthony said briefly.
"But I have a feeling that something terrible's going to happen if I don't go——"