The other shrugged his shoulders, and finally went away; while the next night it was being whispered, with bated breath, that the examination had been made, and there was talk of sealed bottles and the analytical chemist in London.
A week later, while the prisoners were lying under remand at the county gaol, Mrs Sarson tapped softly at Chris Lisle’s door, and entered.
He did not move, for he was thinking deeply of how he would give the world if he dared go to the Fort as a friend and say a few words to Claude.
“And I can make no sign; I dare make no sign,” he was muttering, as his landlady’s hand was laid upon his arm.
“I thought you’d like to hear the news, sir,” she said respectfully.
“Yes. What news?”
“I have just heard, sir, that Mrs Glyddyr is going over to Toxeter this morning to see Mr Glyddyr. Mr Trevithick has come to fetch her.”
A spasm ran through Chris, and he turned away his head.
“Yes,” he said; “suppose it is her duty.”
“And Doctor Asher is very bad indeed, sir, this morning, and two other doctors are there. He is worse than when I spoke to you last night.”