"I will not go with such a man as you!" she cried in a sudden burst of anger. "You left me shamefully, half an hour after we were married! You've been no husband to me! You have only come back because you heard there might be money! I never wish to see you again!"
"Well, you're going to hear from me, now!" said Fairfax. "As for you,
Mr. Garrison, assuming my name and——"
He was making a movement toward his pocket, throwing back his coat.
"Drop that!" interrupted Garrison. He had drawn his revolver with a quickness that was startling. "Up with your hand!"
Fairfax halted his impulse. His hand hung oscillating at the edge of his coat. A ghastly pallor overspread his face. His eyes took on a look of supernatural brightness. His mouth dropped open. He crouched a trifle forward, staring fixedly at the table. His hand had fallen at his side. He began to whisper:
"His brains are scattered everywhere, I see them—see them—everywhere—everywhere!" His hand came up before his eyes, the fingers spread like talons. He cried out brokenly, and, turning abruptly, hastened through the door, and they heard him running down the hall.
Dorothy had turned very white. She looked at Garrison almost wildly.
"That's exactly what he said before," she said, "when he pushed me from the train and ran away."
"What does it mean?" said Garrison, tense with emotion. "What have you done to me, Dorothy? He isn't your husband, after all?"
Dorothy sank once more in the chair. She looked at Garrison appealingly.