“But, Mark, dear; I cannot understand.”
“Not with this before you plainly stamped,” said the admiral bitterly. “Some old trouble—a lady, I suppose—men are all alike—there was an exposé imminent, I expect, and he sought a way out of it—the coward’s way, and was too great a cur to take aim straight.”
They all looked down in horror at Stratton, where he lay, to see that he was now sensible to their words, and glaring wildly from face to face.
Chapter Twenty Three.
The Man is mad.
Stratton rose slowly, and he was evidently confused and not quite able to grasp all that had been going on, till a pang from his injured shoulder spurred his brain.
His right-hand went up to the bandage, and he began hastily to arrange his dress.
He was evidently sick and faint, but to restore his garments was for the moment the dominant idea.