“Breathed on her forehead and eyes,” mumbled the half-conscious man.
Quickly Potter aroused Janet. She shivered, and turned and stretched out her hands to Tom.
“Take me away,” she said. “Oh, Tom, I asked you at dinner to protect me from myself. I’m not well—I tell you, I’m not well,” and she shook as with an ague.
Utterly regardless of the others’ presence, Tom gathered her in his strong arms. “I shall always guard you, my darling,” he promised tenderly. “No one shall come between us, and you will never be tormented again. Come with me.”
Barnard staggered to his feet and tried to intercept the lovers. Janet cowered back at his approach.
“Don’t let him touch me,” she pleaded piteously. “He says I’m a kleptomaniac, and that I must steal, steal——” a shudder of repulsion shook her. “He threatened to tell, he threatened to tell. Am I a kleptomaniac, Tom, dear Tom, am I a kleptomaniac?” Her eyes were alight with horror.
“No, no, my darling; you are only the dearest and best sweetheart in the whole world”—Tom’s voice quivered, and he held her close.
“But, Tom, I did find other people’s jewelry in my possession sometimes, and how did I get it unless I was a kleptomaniac?” Janet raised both hands to her throbbing temples and burst into a storm of tears.
“Go in the library with Nichols, Janet,” broke in Potter. “He will explain away your—nightmare.” Tom nodded understandingly as he caught the physician’s warning glare, and he gently led Janet out of the room. Barnard tried to slide after them, but Duncan pulled him back and closed the hall door.
“State what you have to say to us,” he ordered, “and be brief.”