"Why, what ails you?" I demanded, stopping.
"It's all right…. You're not playing any tricks, are you?…"
I saw him pass his hand over his brow.
"Come, get on," I said shortly; and we didn't speak again till we struck the pavement with the lighted lamps. Then I happened to glance at him.
"Here," I said brusquely, taking him by the sleeve, "you're not well.
We'll call somewhere and get a drink."
"Yes," he said, again wiping his brow. "I say … did you hear?"
"Hear what?"
"Ah, you didn't … and, of course, you didn't feel anything…."
"Come, you're shaking."
When presently we came to a brightly lighted public-house or hotel, I saw that he was shaking even worse than I had thought. The shirt-sleeved barman noticed it too, and watched us curiously. I made Rooum sit down, and got him some brandy.