Mackenzie's long, lean fingers suddenly relaxed their grip on the edge, and he sat back against the table.
"Good heavens!" he said, slowly.
Trevelyan went up and slapped him on the shoulder.
"I got your letter and it just stirred up my fighting blood. I packed my grip—and, presto! here I am."
Mackenzie was silent.
"Come; haven't you anything to say to a chap who has been traveling thousands of miles to get here? Aren't you glad to see me?"
"Glad to see you?" Mackenzie lifted his haggard eyes from the floor to Trevelyan's face, "Glad to see you—in this pest house? You're the maddest fool God ever made!"
Trevelyan drew down the corners of his mouth.
"Perhaps I am," he said, "but I've come; and I've come to stay."
Mackenzie laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and Trevelyan could feel the pressure of the long thin fingers through his coat.