“Let us go up,” he said; “I’ll step up quietly.”
I was the more confused and muddled for having just awakened from a deep sleep, and somehow, all this seemed to be part of the dream connected with the great black mass that had threatened to fall upon me. I should not have been the least surprised if I had suddenly awakened and found myself alone, when, after closing the door, I led Hallett upstairs to the little front room where Mary was standing with dilated eyes, staring hard at the door.
“You, Mr Hallett?” she exclaimed, as he half staggered in, and then, staring round, seemed to reel, and caught my hand as I helped him to a seat.
“Tell me,” gasped Mary, catching at his hand; “is it very bad?”
He nodded.
“Give me—water,” he panted. “I am—exhausted.”
Mary rushed to the little cupboard for a glass, and the brandy that had been kept on Revitts behalf, and hastily pouring some into a glass with water, she held it to him, and he drained it at a draught.
“Now, tell me,” she exclaimed. “Where is he—what is it—have you seen him?”
“No,” he cried hoarsely, as he clenched his fist and held it before him! “no, or I should have struck him dead.”
“Mr Hallett!” she cried, starting. Then, in a piteous voice, “Oh, tell me, please—what has he done? He is my husband, my own dear boy! Pray, pray, tell me—he was half-mad. Oh, what have—what have I done!”