"Giddy," he answered, "and a trifle faint. It's a queer business. I went down as if I'd been shot. I have an hour and a half to steady myself before the next train comes in. Let me make the best of it."
"You'll go to-night?" said Haworth.
"There's a stronger reason than ever that I should go," he answered. "Let me get it out of the way and safe, for heaven's sake!"
Haworth squared his arms upon the table and leaned on them.
"Then," he said, "I've got an hour and a half to make a clean breast of it."
He said it almost with a swagger, and yet his voice was hoarse, and his coolness a miserable pretense.
"Ask me," he said, "how I came here!"
And not waiting for a reply even while Murdoch gazed at him bewildered, he answered the question himself.
"I come," he said, "for a good reason,—for the same reason that's brought me here every night you've been at work."
Murdoch repeated his last words mechanically. He was not quite sure the man was himself.