The two set out down the street. The young man walked so falteringly that after a minute Black took his well-worn leather bag away from him, saying pleasantly: “Let me carry it. You’re not quite fit, I’m sure.”
The other glowered. “Not fit! What do you mean by that? I’m fit enough—I’m just worn out, that’s all. Overwork—illness—nerves—I’m all in. But if you mean to imply——”
“I don’t mean to imply anything, Mr. Ray—if that is your name. I can see you have been ill. Let me put my hand under your arm, won’t you? I’d call a cab if there were any to be had—I’m afraid there aren’t.”
“Don’t want a cab—can walk. Walk faster, that’s all. I’m liable to go to pieces pretty soon—haven’t eaten a mouthful to-day—couldn’t look at it. These confounded nerves——”
There was no doubt but his nerves were confounded, and badly, at that. As they walked the few squares necessary to get to Jane’s little street, Black felt his companion becoming more and more desperately shaken in body and mind. Several times he said something which struck Black as all but irrational. More than once he would have wavered far away from the straight course if Black’s arm had not held him steady. A policeman looked sharply at the pair as they passed under the light at a corner, and Black was aware that but one inference was likely—one he was not at all sure was untrue.
The shop was dark when they reached it, and Black rang the bell. Just as a light appeared, and he saw Jane coming through from her rooms in the rear, the stranger suddenly sank against Black’s shoulder, and he was forced to drop the bag and hold him supported in both arms. So when Jane opened the door, it was to this singular and somewhat startling apparition.
“Don’t be frightened, Miss Ray,” said Black’s quietly assured voice. “He’s only faint, I think. This is—your brother? He’s been ill, and wasn’t quite strong enough to make the journey. We’ll get him lying down as fast as we can.”
“Oh, Cary!” Jane was out of the door in an instant, and her strong young arm was around her brother from the opposite side. “Can you walk, dear?”
He hardly had to walk, so nearly did they carry him. They had him through the shop and into the little living room in no time at all, and Jane had run for a stimulant. The glass she held to his lips and the prostrate position revived him quickly. He made a wry face at the tumbler she had set down upon a table.
“Can’t you do better than that?” he questioned, weakly. “For God’s sake give me the real thing—I need it. I’m dying for it—yes, dying literally, if you want to know.”