h were visible.
The eyebrows were scanty, and the hair was much worn away from the high
and hollow forehead. The man looked sick unto death. I had seldom seen
any one with an expression like his--the closed eyes were much sunken,
and the moaning which came from the livid lips was horrible to listen
to.

After giving Murdock a long and earnest stare, I stepped back from the
bed, and was just about to speak to Mrs. Murdock, who was rustling
papers in the drawer, when the most strong and irresistible curiosity
assailed me. I could not account for it, but I felt bound to yield to
its suggestions. I turned again and bent close over the sick man. Surely
there was something monotonous about that deep-drawn breath; those
moans, too, came at wonderfully regular intervals. Scarcely knowing why
I did it, I stretched out my hand and laid it on the forehead. Good God!
what was the matter? I felt myself turning cold; the perspiration stood
out on my own brow. I had not touched a living forehead at all. Flesh
was flesh, it was impossible to mistake the feel, but there was no flesh
here. The figure in the bed was neither a living nor a dead man, it was
a wax representation of one; but why did it moan, and how was it
possible for it not to breathe?

Making the greatest effort of my life, I repressed an exclamation, and
when Mrs. Murdock approached me with the necessary papers in her hand,
took them from her in my usual manner.

"These all relate to Schedule A," she said. "I hope I am not doing
wrong in giving them to you without my husband's leave. He looks very
ill, does he not?"

"He looks as bad as he can look," I answered. I moved towards the door.
Something in my tone must have alarmed her, for a curious expression of
fear dilated the pupils of her light blue eyes. She followed me
downstairs. A hansom was waiting for me. I nodded to Wickham, did not
even wait to shake hands with Mrs. Murdock, and sprang into the cab.

"Central Station!" I shouted to the man; and then as he whipped up his
horse and flew down the street, "A sovereign if you get there before
seven o'clock."

We were soon dashing quickly along the streets. I did not know Liverpool
well, and consequently could not exactly tell where the man was going.
When I got into the hansom it wanted twelve minutes to seven o'clock;
these minutes were quickly flying, and still no station.

"Are you sure you are going right?" I shouted through the hole in the
roof.

"You'l