“Percy Guest—” began Stratton fiercely.
“It’s of no use,” said Guest. “Only waste of words. Come along.”
Stratton made a quick movement to avoid him, and staggered into a chair; when his eyes closed, and he lay back fainting.
“Poor wretch!” muttered Guest, snatching the basin and sponge to begin bathing the already damp face. “I oughtn’t to have bullied him.”
In a few moments Stratton opened his eyes again, and his first look was directed round the room.
“It’s all right, old chap,” said Guest. “Temper’s gone. Come, be sensible. I won’t say disagreeable things to you. Give up the keys. You’d be better for a drop of brandy.”
“No,” said Stratton hastily. “Go and leave me now.”
“Impossible. You must have the doctor.”
“I cannot; I will not.”
“But you must.”