. He fell heavily, dragging Piers
with him, struck his head with violence against the table-leg, and
crumpled with the blow like an empty sack.

Piers found himself gripping a limp, inanimate object, and with a sudden
sense of overpowering horror he desisted. He stumbled up, staggering
slightly, and drew a long, hard breath. His heart was racing like a
runaway engine. All the blood in his body seemed to be concentrated
there. Almost mechanically he waited for it to slow down. And, as he
waited, the madness of that wild rush through hell fell away from him.
The demons that had driven him passed into distance. He was left standing
in a place of desolation, utterly and terribly alone.

* * * * *

A trickle of cold water ran down Tudor's chin. He put up a hesitating,
groping hand, and opened his eyes.

He was lying in the arm-chair before the fire in which he had spent the
evening. The light danced before him in blurred flashes.

"Hullo!" he muttered thickly. "I've been asleep."

He remained passive for a few moments, trying, not very successfully, to
collect his scattered senses. Then, with an effort that seemed curiously
laboured, he slowly sat up. Instinctively, his eyes went to the clock
above him, but the hands of it seemed to be swinging round and round. He
stared at it bewildered.

But when he tried to rise and investigate the mystery, the whole room
began to spin, and he sank back with a feeling of intense sickness.

It was then that he became aware of another presence. Someone came from
behind him and, stooping, held a tumbler to his lips. He looked up
vaguely, and as in a dream he saw the face of Piers Evesham.

But it was Piers as he had never before seen him, white-lipped, unnerved,
shaking. The hand that held the glass trembled almost beyond control.

"What's the matter?" questioned Tudor in hazy wonder. "Have you been
boozing, or have I?"

And then, his perceptions growing stronger, he took the glass from the
quivering hand and slowly drank.

The draught steadied him. He looked up with more assurance, and saw
Piers, still with that deathly look on his face, leaning against the
mantelpiece for support.

"What on earth's the matter?" said Tudor sharply.

He felt for his glasses, found them dangling over his shoulder, and put
them on. One of them was cracked across, an illuminating fact which
accounted for much. He looked keenly at Piers for several quiet seconds.