He staggered in through the gate, and across the garden. There was a light in the window, for Miss Santley was sitting up for her brother, wondering what had kept him so late. He crept close to the window and tapped upon it.
“Mary! Mary!” he moaned.
She heard him, looked out, and then opened the door, standing on the threshold with a lighted candle in her hand.
At the sight of his blood-stained face and disordered dress, she uttered a cry of fear.
As she did so, he stretched out his hands, and fell like a corpse across the threshold.
CHAPTER XL. THREE LETTERS.
They carried him into the house and laid him on a bed; then, seeing him still speechless, and to all appearance senseless, Miss Santley sent for Dr. Spruce, who lived close by. By the time that the doctor, a homely old country practitioner, with much professional skill and worldly wisdom, entered the chamber, Santley was sitting up and talking incoherently. He tried to leave his bed and fly forth upon some wild errand, and his speech was a confused medley, in which the words “murder,” “poison,” and “Ellen Haldane,” were constantly repeated. He did not seem to recognize any one, and his whole appearance was alarming in the extreme.
Miss Santley told how she had found him, and in what condition. The doctor shook his head.