“May I say a few words to you about getting advice?”
“Aren’t you afraid of shutting yourself up with me here in the dark? There are razors in that drawer. There’s a bottle of prussic acid on the dressing-table. Why, parson, you’re a fool!”
The voice seemed changed, and this speech was followed by a curious mocking laugh which ran through Salis and made him shrink; but he recovered himself directly.
“No,” he said stoutly; “I am not afraid.”
“No, you are not afraid,” came softly from out of the darkness.
“Come, North, old fellow,” continued Salis; “we are old friends. You have helped me when I have been in sore distress; forgive me, now that I know you are in trouble, for thrusting myself upon you.”
“I have nothing to forgive.”
“Then let me help you. Believe me that Mary and I are both terribly concerned about your health. Tell me what I can do.”
There was a pause; then a low, piteous sigh; and from out of the darkness came the word—
“Nothing—!”