"Yes; but I'm going to say something else. Look round you. Don't you think this a large, scientific-looking room?"
"What of that?"
"Why, what if suppose it was to become as dark as the grave, and Varney was to enter with his scythe, that he talks of, and begin mowing about our legs."
"The devil! Come along!"
The door at which they entered was at this moment opened, and the old woman made her appearance.
"Please, sir," she said, "here's a Mr. Mortimer," in a loud voice. "Oh, Sir Francis ain't here! Where's he gone, gentlemen?"
"To the devil!" said the admiral. "Who may Mr. Mortimer be?"
There walked past the woman a stout, portly-looking man, well dressed, but with a very odd look upon his face, in consequence of an obliquity of vision, which prevented the possibility of knowing which way he was looking.
"I must see him," he said; "I must see him."
Mr. Chillingworth started back as if in amazement.