‘You’re on holy—or on haunted ground,—hang me if I quite know which!—but that’s where you are, my boy.’
‘By Jove!—I am feeling queer!—I have got a headache, don’t you know.’
‘I shouldn’t be in the least surprised at anything you have, or haven’t,—I’m beyond surprise. It’s a drop of whisky you are wanting,—and what I’m wanting too,—only, for goodness sake, drop me none of your drops! Mine is a case for a bottle at the least.’
I put my arm through his, and went with him into the laboratory. And, when we were in, I shut, and locked, and barred the door.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE LADY RAGES
Dora Grayling stood in the doorway.
‘I told your servant he need not trouble to show me in,—and I’ve come without my aunt. I hope I’m not intruding.’
She was—confoundedly; and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell her so. She came into the room, with twinkling eyes, looking radiantly happy,—that sort of look which makes even a plain young woman prepossessing.
‘Am I intruding?—I believe I am.’
She held out her hand, while she was still a dozen feet away, and when I did not at once dash forward to make a clutch at it, she shook her head and made a little mouth at me.