His face was of an ashy
whiteness; the veins of his brow stood out; his dry lips were drawn.
"Good Heavens, Hartledon!" uttered Thomas Carr. "What is it? You look as
if you had been accused of murder."
"I have been accused of it," gasped the unhappy man, "of worse than
murder. Ay, and I have done it."
The words called up a strange confusion of ideas in the mind of Thomas
Carr. Worse than murder!
"What is it?" cried he, aloud. "I am beginning to dream."
"Will you stand by me?" rejoined Hartledon, his voice seeming to have
changed into something curiously hollow. "I have asked you before for
trifles; I ask you now in the extremity of need. Will you stand by me,
and aid me with your advice?"
"Y--es," answered Mr. Carr, his excessive astonishment causing a
hesitation. "Where is your visitor?"
"Upstairs. He holds a fearful secret, and has me in his power. Do you
come back with me, and combat with him against its betrayal."
"A fearful secret!" was Thomas Carr's exclamation. "What brings you with
one?"
Lord Hartledon only groaned. "You will stand by me, Carr? Will you come
upstairs and do what you can for me?"
"I am quite ready," replied Thomas Carr, quickly. "I will stand by you
now, as ever. But--I seem to be in a maze. Is it a true charge?"
"Yes, in so far as that--But I had better tell you the story," he broke
off, wiping his brow.
Pages:
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312