He shuddered and looked ghastly.
“It’s being low makes me think of it so much,” he continued. “Yes; as soon as the boat gets back I’ll go and see Asher.”
Vacillating to a degree, he was firm in this, and stepped into the boat as soon as it reached the yacht, ordering the men to put him ashore, and this done, the men watching him as he walked sharply away, clinging to the hope that a strong tonic would calm his feelings and give him strength to go on with his plans, and trusting to time to dull the agony of his thoughts.
“Seems horrible to go on,” he said. “But it will be like penance; and, poor old boy, he did wish it.” Then aloud—“Doctor Asher at home?”
He was shown into the doctor’s consulting-room to be warmly received.
“Yes, of course,” said the doctor. “I don’t wonder you are a bit run down. I’ll soon set you right.”
Then after a short examination, and a little professional business.
“Wonder whether he knows what’s really the matter with me;” thought Glyddyr.
“Wonder whether he thinks me such a fool as not to know that he is saturated with brandy?” said the doctor to himself, as he composed a draught, while Glyddyr took up a card box from the chimney-piece, opened it mechanically, and then, as the doctor raised his hand to the shelf where the chloral bottle stood, the box slipped through Glyddyr’s fingers, fell on the edge of the fender, burst open, and the cards were scattered over the rug, and beneath the fireplace.
“I beg your pardon.”