“Nicolas,” said Lerne, in a gentler tone, “I have a great liking for you. I wish you well. Obey me, my lad.”
“Ah, he wants to soft-sawder me,” I thought to myself. “He is paying court to me now. Look out!”
“Obey me,” he went on, with honeyed sweetness, “and show by your reserve that you are already my ally; intelligent as you are, you must surely understand this fine point. The day is not far off, unless I am mistaken, when I shall be able to tell you about everything. You shall then see the magnificent things that I have dreamt of, and of which I destine a share for you.”
“Meanwhile, since you know about Macbeth’s absence—come, here is a sign of the good faith I ask of you. Come with me and visit him. We shall decide if he is strong enough to stand a railway journey, and the crossing.”
After a short hesitation I followed him into the yellow drawing-room.
The madman at the sight of him humped his back, and growling recoiled into a corner with a look of terror and a revengeful gleam in his eye.
Lerne thrust me in before him—I was afraid he meant to shut me in.
“Take hold of his hands and bring him into the middle of the room.”
Donovan allowed me to touch him. The Doctor examined him thoroughly, but obviously the scar attracted his greatest attention. In my opinion, the rest of the inspection was merely a sham for my benefit.