"What do you purpose doing?" asked Grey cautiously.
That question might safely be put in the face of any facts.
"I shall sell, of course. Evans tells me you agree to sell; so that if you are sole executor and trustee, there is no need to look up anyone for consent."
What was he to hear next? This man was telling him he had a co-executor and co-trustee, and that he had authorised Evans to sell. Monstrous! Which was his period of insanity: when he had (if he had) given Evans the instructions, or now? Which was his madness: in giving such instructions, or in now believing his senses and the words of this man? He made a great effort, pulled all his faculties together, knit his brows, and put this question to himself: "Is the lead to overtake the gold—to-night?" Then he put another question to Barraclough:
"What did Evans say altogether?"
"That Mrs. Grey had come to him——" Arrested by the banker's manner, Barraclough paused.
Grey had leaned suddenly forward, thrust a pale, shrivelled face close to Barraclough's, placed one hand on the attorney's shoulder, and, pointing over his own right shoulder with the other hand, whispered:
"This one?"
"You are ill?"
"No. Go on."