"Should Gumley be committed tomorrow, as I suppose he will be, you must go up to London, and see a certain solicitor whose name and address I will give you. You will put Gumley's case into his hands, and instruct him to engage the best counsel. Expense must be no object; only, it must not be known from whence or whom the requisite funds will be forthcoming."
"I understand. But suppose----"
"My dear Rodd, let us have no suppositions, as thou lov'st me! They are hateful things. When you have carried out my instructions, you will have done all that can be done."
Again he rose and in his restless fashion took a turn or two from end to end of the room. Then, as he laid a hand on Rodd's shoulder: "You have read how, during the First Revolution, when the guillotine was busy at work and the Conciérgerie was crammed with prisoners who had been tried and condemned, morning after morning the tumbrels used to come to the prison gate and the names used to be called out of those who were to be led off to execution--you have read all that?"
"Certainly--and how gay the prisoners were, or made believe to be; and how they used to get up little dances among themselves, although they knew that for some of them the sun would rise next morning for the last time."
"Rodd, I feel exactly as I can conceive those condemned prisoners used to feel, except that in my case the end is a little farther off, although none the less inevitable. Meanwhile, let us eat, drink, and be merry. Bring roses and garlands. Let us have in the hautboy and the flute. And as for the grim Shadow biding its time behind my chair--I can feel its presence there already--you and I alone have eyes to see it."
Rodd regarded him with a troubled expression. "I fail to understand you," he said. "You don't mean to imply----"
"Hush!"
Marian was standing at the open door.
"Ah! here comes my little girl," exclaimed Drelincourt, turning to her with his gayest smile.