He
rose with some reluctance from his chair to answer the summons.
"Burton!" he exclaimed.
Burton came quickly in. He was paler, even, than usual, and there were
black shadows under his eyes. There was a change in his face,
indescribable but very apparent. His eyes had lost their dreamy look,
he glanced furtively about him, he had the air of a man who has
committed a crime and fears detection. His dress was not nearly so neat
as usual. Mr. Waddington, whose bachelor evening clothes--a loose
dinner-jacket and carefully tied black tie--were exactly as they should
be, glanced disparagingly at his visitor.
"My dear Burton," he gasped, "whatever is the matter with you? You seem
all knocked over."
Burton had thrown himself into a chair. He was contemplating the little
silver box which he had drawn from his pocket.
"I've got to take one of these," he muttered, "that's all. When I have
eaten it, there will be three left. I took the last one exactly two
months and four days ago. At the same rate, in just eight months and
sixteen days I shall be back again in bondage."
Mr. Waddington was very much interested. He was also a little
distressed.
"Are you quite sure," he asked, "of your symptoms?"
"Absolutely certain," Burton declared sadly.
Pages:
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142