“Do I? Absurd!”
“Yes. That is why you are here.”
“I am not going to contradict you; but I will tell you why I am here. My old friend and companion suddenly turned queer, attacked with some illness, and I said to myself, ‘If I were to be bad like that I hope poor old Mal would come to me as I’m going to him.’”
A hoarse sound, like a suppressed sob, escaped from Stratton’s lips, and, by a rapid movement, he caught and wrung Guest’s hand. But the wild look never left his eyes, and at the end of a few seconds he cast the hand away.
“Oh, it’s true enough, old lad,” said Guest, smiling. “You know it, too. I want to do it for everybody’s sake.”
Stratton made a peculiar movement in the air with his extended hands.
“Come, come, don’t take it that way, old fellow,” cried Guest. “Sit down.”
Stratton hesitated, and seemed to be trying to resist, but his friend’s calm firm way mastered him.
“That’s better; now, then, let’s look matters plainly in the face, as doctor and patient if you like. You’re off the line, Mal. There’s no denying it. Overstrain. Well, it’s bad. Painful for you and everybody.”
A low moan escaped from Stratton.