You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. Bottles and glasses usurped the place of dishes and plates. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. She could not go to him when it was apparent that he needed her beyond all other instances! What had caused this agony did not matter—then. They must be for your father. "Can't you see? I can't hurt her, if … if she cares! I can't tell her I'm a madman as well as a thief!… What a fool! What a fool!" A thief. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so.
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