“Either upon her seeing me one day by accident, or upon her calling me Mr George Harrington. Come, Mr Hampton it is of no use your holding back. Never mind the lawyer. The man believes I am George Harrington, and surely there can be no harm in two affianced folk having half an hour’s chat about a dog.”
The position was most painful for Gertrude, but there was a sudden diversion, for the gate-bell rang, and Mrs Hampton came to her help.
“Visitors! and to-night. Why, my dear, whom do you expect?”
A pause ensued as steps were heard, and directly after the old housekeeper entered quickly to whisper to Gertrude:
“Mr Saul, miss, and he does seem so strange.”
Saul Harrington had entered close behind her, a strange, ghastly-looking object, the more strange in aspect from his hair clinging above his dark brow, and his dress consisting mainly of an overcoat tightly-buttoned about his throat.
“My dear sir!” cried the doctor, as he hurried to his side; but at that moment there was an ominous sound, and Saul seized a chair and whirled it above his head.