Crampton was silent, and as Van Heldre looked at him he saw that the great beads of perspiration were standing upon his face.
“Why, good heavens, Crampton,” he cried, “you have not breathed a word of all this to a soul?”
The old clerk looked at him wildly.
“Ah! you are keeping something back,” said Van Heldre.
“Hush, sir, hush!” cried the old clerk in alarm; “for goodness’ sake don’t be excited. Think of how weak you are.”
“Then answer,” said Van Heldre, in a low whisper. “Tell me what you have done?”
“I—I did everything for the best, sir.”
“Henry Vine! You did not accuse him of this terrible affair?”
Crampton’s face grew gradually hard and stern. His tremulous state passed off, and he turned as if at bay.
“Crampton! Good heavens, man! What have you done?”