"Why d'you start like that?" asked Guildea, with a quick suspicion which showed the unnatural condition of his nerves.
"Well, the very same idea had occurred to me."
"What?"
"That I was listening to the voice of something idiotic."
"Ah! That's the devil of it, you know, to a man like me. I could fight against brain—but this!"
He sprang up again, poked the fire violently, then stood on the hearthrug with his back to it, and his hands thrust into the high pockets of his trousers.
"That's the voice of the thing that's got into my house," he said. "Pleasant, isn't it?"
And now there was really horror in his eyes, and in his voice.
"I must get it out," he exclaimed. "I must get it out. But how?"
He tugged at his short black beard with a quivering hand.