‘Sandford, what is the matter? Something has happened to you; what are you going to do?’
John did not answer for a minute. He sat with his mouth open taking long breaths, as if the air had been a cordial which he was gulping down in mouthfuls. The street was very quiet, there was nobody in sight, and the air of early summer was fresh and a little chill in afternoon greyness. Presently the young man rose and smiled faintly at his companion.
‘I’m better,’ he said. ‘I’m fit now for what I’ve got to do.’
‘Tell me, Sandford, what is it you are going to do? Nothing desperate, I hope. I came to tell you I was ready to hear any explanation—’
John waved his hand with an air of almost derision.
‘Do you suppose I’m thinking of that? It’s gone far beyond that.’
‘What can be beyond that?’ cried the employer, with exasperation. Then he seized the young man by the arm. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I am afraid I must have a cab,’ said John, with his confused look, ‘for quickness; besides that I couldn’t walk. All my strength’s gone out of me.’
‘But what are you doing? What has happened? Where are you going now?’ John looked at his chief, the friend of so many years, with a piteous smile.
‘I am going to find out—if there’s any hope for me—what’s to become of me,’ he said.