c dressings.

CHAPTER II

With a strange blending of curiosity and shrinking, Milbanke obeyed the
pressure of Clodagh's hand, and moved forward into the room. The cold
March daylight was partly excluded by drawn blinds, but a glow from the
fire played upon the walls and the high four-post bedstead.

With the same mingling of curiosity and dread, his eyes fell at once
upon this prominent article of furniture and remained fixed there in
doubt and incredulity. For the moment his senses refused to acknowledge
that the feverish, haggard face that stared at him from the pillows was
the face of Asshlin--Asshlin, tyrannical, passionate, greedy of life.

In the hours of agony that he had passed through, the sick man's
features had become shrunken, causing his eyes to stare forth
preternaturally large and restless; his hair had been cropped close, to
allow of the dressing of a wound over the temple, and the tight white
bandages lent a strange and unfamiliar appearance to his finely shaped
head. With a sick sensation, Milbanke went slowly forward.

The patient made no attempt to move as he drew near the bed, but his
feverishly bright glance seemed to devour his face.

"Here he is, father!" Clodagh exclaimed softly and eagerly. "Here's Mr.
Milbanke! Now, aren't you happy? He's not able to move," she explained,
turning to the guest. "It gives him terrible agony to stir."

Milbanke had reached the bed; and with a sensation of awkwardness and
impotence impossible to describe, he stood looking down upon Asshlin.

"My poor Denis!" he said. "My poor, poor friend! This is a bad
business; I had no idea----"

Then he paused confusedly, remembering Clodagh's warning.

"But we'll see you laughing at it all before we're much older," he
added, in awkward haste to make amends.

A gleam of something like irony crossed Asshlin's watchful eyes.

"I'm done for this time, James!" he said feebly. "I suppose I've had my
day, and, like every other dog, must answer to the whistle. I don't
complain! I'm getting more than my deserts in seeing you again. You're
as welcome as the flowers in----"

His voice failed.

"I know--I know! Don't trouble! Don't try to speak!" Milbanke bent over
him anxiously.

But Asshlin glanced back.

"Ah, but that's what I must do, James!" he said sharply. "That's what I
want you for. I have something that must be said."

Milbanke turned to Clodagh.

"Is it right of him to excite himself?" he asked in