thoughts on any one thing for two minutes together; not the peering gaze of the madman, but the glance of one weakened by long illness until the nerves were shattered and the brain unhinged.
"Where is your master?" he repeated, forcing his way up the hall. "I mean to speak to him."
"Then you'll have to come to-morrow," said I. "You don't suppose I'm going to work a miracle for your particular benefit! I tell you that he isn't in the house'"
"Oh!" said he, drawing back and seeming to think of it. "Do you know if he has gone to Chelsea?"
"To Chelsea?" cried I, though his words sent me cold all over. "What would he do at Chelsea?"
"He would be with Mrs. Hadley," said he, though I could see that his mind did not follow his words.
"That's a name I never heard before, so I really can't say," I replied.
"You know her as Lilian More," he exclaimed, turning his eyes upon me quickly. "He is with her now! Don't tell me lies, or I will serve you as I mean to serve him!"
"Sir!" said I quickly, for his words shocked me, "Miss More died three weeks ago."
Now at this he did not break out or make any scene, as I thought he would do. It was wonderful to watch the manner of him; his brain seeming to grasp the truth for a minute, only to let it go in the next. As for his eyes, they were never still, and his look passed unceasingly from one object to the other.
