He repented the moment he was inside, for the room looked strange and gloomy through the window blind being drawn down, and there was a singularly wild, strained look in Stratton’s eyes, which never left him for a moment, suggestive of the truth of Mrs Brade’s words.
Stratton had hurriedly closed the outer door upon his friend’s entrance, but he had left the inner undone; and now stood holding it open as if for his visitor to go.
Guest felt ready to obey, but he again mastered his weakness and took a chair, knowing that if he was to perform a manly act and save his friend, he must be calm and firm. But in spite of himself, as he took his seat he gave a hasty glance round the room, thinking of its loneliness, and the extreme improbability of anyone hearing a cry for help.
“Why have you come back so soon?” said Stratton at last.
“The old reason. Sort of stupid, spaniel-like feeling for the man who kicks me.”
Stratton made a hasty gesture.
“Didn’t like to stop away long after your being so upset last night.”
Stratton shuddered, and his friend watched him curiously again.
“I’m much better now.”
“Glad of it, but your nerves are terribly unstrung; or you wouldn’t be ready to jump out of your skin at the sound of a rat.”