“I admit that I was in a regular funk. I must have shown it in my face.
“‘What’s the matter?’ asked George, as I blundered into his study.
“‘Oh, nothing,’ I answered; ‘dropped my candle and lost the way.’
“‘But who were you talking to?’
“‘I was only swearing at the candle,’ I replied.
“‘Oh! I thought perhaps you had seen—somebody,’ replied George.
“Somehow I did not like to tell him the truth, for fear he would laugh at my nervousness. But I determined to keep an eye on my liver, and take a couple of weeks’ complete rest. That night I woke up several times with the feeling of that confounded hand under my own—a clammy hand which writhed as my fingers closed upon it.
“The next morning after breakfast I was in the billiard-room practicing strokes while Carson was over at the stables. Presently the door opened, and Miss Stonor looked in.
“‘Come in,’ I said; ‘George will be back from the stables in a few minutes. Meanwhile we can have fifty up.’
“‘I wanted to speak to you,’ she said.