I obeyed, and dressed as quickly as I could, for something in his voice and manner made me feel very anxious. He went to the window, and throwing himself into my arm-chair with a weary sigh, stared out into the cold, gray, winter morning. His face was deadly pale, and his eyes shone with a feverish brightness.
"Adolf," I exclaimed, "you are ill."
"No, I'm not ill," he answered impatiently—"I mustn't be ill. But come, come—"
"Where?"
"I'll tell you."
I followed him out into the cold, stormy December morning with a feeling of anxiety that increased every moment.
"Where is the nearest telegraph-office?" he asked.
"A good way off; what are we to do there?"
"Come on—and don't ask so many questions."
Seeing how excited he was, I accompanied him in silence. When we at length reached the door of the telegraph-office, he said: