“Yes, not long after you had gone. I was asleep, when I was awakened with a start, thinking you had returned, but I was borne back directly. He had me by the throat. Malcolm, lad, I thought it was all over. I struggled, but he was too strong. I remember thinking of your words, and then all was blank till I saw a light in the room, and found these people attending me. I had awakened them with my groans. They do not grasp the truth. Don’t tell them. Let them think it is an affection of the throat, but we must never trust him again.”
“There will be no need,” said Stratton bitterly.
“What do you mean?”
“He has gone.”
“You have let him escape? No; you have handed him over to the police. Oh, my dear boy, you shouldn’t have done that. The man is mad.”
“I told you I should not do so,” said Stratton coldly. “You are wrong.”
“But you stand there. Good Heavens, man! Those two may meet. Don’t mind me. I am better now. Go at once.”
“No, I shall not leave you till you are fit to move.”
“It is not an illness, but an injury, which will soon pass off. Go at once. Man, do you not see that he may find her, after all.”
“He has found her,” said Stratton slowly, and speaking in a strangely mechanical way.