“I don’t know. He went out through that window some time ago. Do you know where he is gone?”
“It’s better not to ask too many questions here, Miss Audaer. Where’s Rees?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. I want to see him.”
“Have you come to see Rees, Miss Audaer?” asked Sep, in a weak, mistrustful voice.
“I will tell you everything when you have lit the gas,” said she, struck by the fear in his tones. “Have you any matches about you?”
Very unwillingly Sep produced a box, which Deborah took from him. As soon as the gas was alight she turned to look at him, and surprised a furtive glance towards the door. Before he had time to follow his evident inclination, she put her arm through his and drew him down on to the sofa beside her. Sep never resisted anybody, so of course he yielded like a lamb to her.
“And now,” she said, looking him full in the face, “what is the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” stammered Sep, glancing quickly at her, and then avoiding her eyes.
The answer was absurd. With his wan face, wrinkled and furrowed by deadly anxiety and fear, and marked with black streaks of smoke and fog, his bloodshot, swollen eyes, his quivering lips, and the trembling fits which from time to time seized his limbs, Sep Jocelyn had evidently something very seriously the matter with him.
“You are cold,” said Deborah gently.