Mr. Wilkins did not seem to hear; in fact, he did not hear anything but
the unspoken echo of his own last words, that went booming through his
heart: "An hour ago I was innocent of this man's blood! Only an hour
ago!"
Dixon got up and poured out half a tumblerful of raw spirit from the
brandy-bottle that stood on the table.
"Drink this, Master Ned!" putting it to his master's lips. "Nay"--to
Ellinor--"it will do him no harm; only bring back his senses, which, poor
gentleman, are scared away. We shall need all our wits. Now, sir,
please answer my question. Did anyone see Measter Dunster come here?"
"I don't know," said Mr. Wilkins, recovering his speech. "It all seems
in a mist. He offered to walk home with me; I did not want him. I was
almost rude to him to keep him off. I did not want to talk of business;
I had taken too much wine to be very clear and some things at the office
were not quite in order, and he had found it out. If anyone heard our
conversation, they must know I did not want him to come with me. Oh! why
would he come? He was as obstinate--he would come--and here it has been
his death!"
"Well, sir, what's done can't be undone, and I'm sure we'd any of us
bring him back to life if we could, even by cutting off our hands, though
he was a mighty plaguey chap while he'd breath in him. But what I'm
thinking is this: it'll maybe go awkward with you, sir, if he's found
here.
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