“Unless averted. But it must be averted.”
“How?”
“There is one way, you know,” said Mr. Verrall, after a pause. “I have pointed it out to you already.”
“And I wish your tongue had been blistered, Verrall, before you ever had pointed it out to me!” foamed George. “There!”
Mr. Verrall raised his impassive eyebrows. “You must be aware——”
“Man!” interrupted George, his voice hoarse with emotion, as he grasped Mr. Verrall’s shoulder: “do you know that the temptation, since you suggested it, is ever standing out before me—an ignis fatuus, beckoning me on to it! Though I know that it would prove nothing but a curse to engulf me.”
“Here, George, take this,” said Mr. Verrall, pouring out a large tumbler of sparkling wine, and forcing it upon him. “The worst of you is, that you get so excited over things! and then you are sure to look at them in a wrong light. Just hear me for a moment. The pressure is all at this present moment, is it not? If you can lift it, you will recover yourself fast enough. Has it ever struck you,” Mr. Verrall added, somewhat abruptly, “that your brother is fading?”
Remembering the scene with his brother the previous night, George looked very conscious. He simply nodded an answer.
“With Ashlydyat yours, you would recover yourself almost immediately. There would positively be no risk.”
“No risk!” repeated George, with emphasis.