But still there was no reply, and, taking his sister’s hand, the admiral drew it through his arm.
“Illness?” he said in a low growl. “Yes, the shivering fit of a coward or a cur.”
“It is not true!” cried Guest excitedly as a thought flashed across his brain. “I remember now: he had a heavy sum of money on the table when I was here, and—Great Heavens! is it that?”
His manner was contagious, and his face conveyed his terrible thoughts to his companions.
Miss Jerrold clung to her brother, and turned ghastly pale, while a look of horror contracted the old man’s face.
“You—you don’t think—” he stammered.
“I think the worst, or my poor friend would have been with us.”
“Man—for God’s sake don’t say that,” gasped the admiral, as Guest stepped back to the full extent of the landing.
“There is some mystery here.”
“Stop! What are you going to do?” cried Sir Mark, catching at his arm.