"Keep out, I tell you!" came a hoarse, guttural voice so unlike Hamlen's that it startled him. "How many times must I tell you to leave me alone!"
"It is I,—Huntington."
There was a sound of shuffling feet, the pushing back of a chair, and the door was flung open.
"I knew you would come to me!" Hamlen cried, extending his hand eagerly. "You are the one man on earth who would stand by me!"
"Of course; but you've given me a devilish shock, old man. Come down-stairs where we can talk things over."
"Yes, we must do that," he assented, following. "My only fear was that you might not understand, and would delay your coming. I couldn't have waited long."
"I came as soon as I learned the facts."
"I should not have doubted. Now let us sit down."
The real shock to Huntington was that so great physical change could take place within so short time. Hamlen seemed years older. His erect carriage had slackened, his face was sunken, his hands and body twitched nervously, and his eyes burned with a consuming fire. Pity filled Huntington's heart, and he leaned over and placed his hand on his friend's knee.
"You mustn't take it like this," he said quietly. "There is something to be said on both sides."