The colonel strode past the fallen man to the bedside, where for an instant he stood looking down on a placid face and into open eyes. As his glance wandered he saw that the judge's nerveless fingers still grasped the butt of a revolver.
White-faced he turned away. "Is he dead, Colonel?" asked the little lamplighter in an awe-struck voice. "Was he murdered?" and visions of future notoriety flashed through his mind.
The colonel and Watt exchanged shocked glances.
"Here, Shrimplin, help me with Marsh!" said Watt. "We must get him out of here at once!"
They lifted Langham in their arms and bore him into an adjoining room. As they placed him upon the bed he recovered consciousness and clutched Watt by the sleeve.
"I've been seeing all sorts of things to-night—it began while I lay in that ditch with the pigs rooting about me! Where is my father, can't you find him?" he demanded eagerly.
Watt turned his head away.
"Then that was not a dream—you saw it, too?" said Langham huskily. He dropped back on his pillow. "Dead—Oh, my God!" he whispered, and was a long time silent.
Harbison despatched Shrimplin and Custer in quest of a physician, and he and Watt busied themselves with removing Marshall's wet clothes. When this was done they washed the blood-stains from his face. He did not speak while they were thus occupied; his eyes, wide and staring, were fixed on vacancy. He was seeing only that still figure on the bed in the room adjoining.
There was a brisk step on the stairs and they were joined by Doctor Taylor.