Gray saw that he had struck the right chord, and he added,—“I fear he is plotting and planning some mischief.”
“You only fear?”
“Nay, I am almost certain.”
“State all you know.”
“I will. And it is because I know so much that I come to you at so unseasonable an hour.”
“Heed not that,” said Learmont. “All hours—all times by night and by day—are alike to me, for they all teem with alarms. The shadow of some dreadful coming evil seems to press upon my soul. Bad tidings crowd upon me. Say on, Jacob Gray, I am prepared too well.”
“What I have to tell you,” said Gray, “consists more of a certain knowledge that there is something to discover than that something itself.”
“Say on—say on.”
“Before I speak, will you, for the first time, let me have a cup of wine, for I am very—very faint.”
“Help yourself,” said Learmont, pointing to a buffet at the further end of the room, on which were refreshments.