She had some cause for complaint, Brettison having dismissed her with a request not to talk quite so much.
In spite of the woman’s declaration of Stratton’s absence, the old man felt that he must be there; and after knocking twice, each time with his heart sinking more and more with dread, he applied his lips to the letter-box after forcing open the spring flap.
“Stratton, if you are there, for Heaven’s sake open at once!” he whispered loudly.
There was a rustling sound directly, the bolt was shot back, and Stratton admitted him, afterward taking a letter from the box, glancing at it, and thrusting it into his pocket.
“That woman said you had gone out,” said Brettison eagerly. “I was alarmed. I thought—how is he?”
Stratton pointed to the chair where the man lay as if asleep.
“Why, how haggard you look,” said Brettison excitedly. “Has there been anything the matter?”
“Nothing much; only I have had a struggle with a madman who tried to murder me.”
“My dear boy!”
“It is a fact,” said Stratton. “I found him with that piece of rock in his hand, and about to strike me down.”