"Why?" "Why?" "Why" was the word that stared at him from ceiling and walls and blue expanse of heaven; why was it there and not in the papers? Could it be that it was lying there yet, that awful, still thing, lying as he remembered it, as he could see it now, its ghastly features hidden among the leaves that rotted, its long arms outflung and strong hands griped among the grass with clutching fingers--could it be?-- "Arthur--boy--what's the matter?" Spike started and looked up to find Hermione beside him, and instinctively he shrank away. "Arthur--oh, what is it? Are you sick?" "N-no, why?" "You were moaning." "Oh, well, I--I'm all right, I guess. Got a headache, that's all." "Why have you avoided me lately, Arthur? I'm not angry any more, I'm only--disappointed." "Y' mean because I lost me job? They don't want my kind; I--oh, I'm too mean--too rotten, I guess." "I heard you cry out in the night, Arthur. What was it?" "Nothin'--I didn't cry out las' night, I tell ye." "I heard you!" "Oh, well, I--I was only dreamin', I guess." "Why have you acted so strangely lately? You don't eat, you don't go out; you sit around staring and seem to be listening--almost as if you were afraid--" "I ain't--I ain't afraid. Who says I'm afraid? An' I don't want you to go worryin' y'self sick over me--I ain't a kid no more." "No, I'm afraid you're not." And sighing, she turned away. But as she crossed the room, her step slow and listless, he spoke, his head down-bent and face hidden between clenched hands, voicing, almost despite himself, the questions that had tortured him so long. "Say, Hermy, where's--Geoff? How is he--I mean you--you ain't--heard anything--have you?" "No," she answered softly, without turning, "what should I hear? I only know he's--gone. How should I hope to hear anything any more?" "I--I thought he was--goin' t' marry you." "So he was, but I--couldn't let him--marry--a thief's sister," she said in the same low, even voice. "Ah!" cried Spike, writhing, "why did he go an' tell ye about me after he told me he never would--why did he tell ye?" "He didn't tell me!" cried Hermione, with curling lip. "Didn't he--oh--didn't he?" said Spike, his voice high and quivering, "didn't Geoff tell ye? Then--say, Hermy, who--who did?" "It was Bud M'Ginnis, and for once it seems he told the truth!" "Bud!" cried Spike, stumbling to his feet. "Oh, my God!" At sound of his voice she turned, and seeing his face, cried out in sudden fear: "Arthur--oh, Arthur, what is it?" "Bud told ye?" he gasped. "Wasn't it Geoff--oh, wasn't it Geoff?" "No!" Spike was down on his knees. "Oh, God! Oh, Geoff--dear old Geoff, forgive me!" He was huddled upon the floor, his face pressed to the worn rug, his clenched fingers buried in his curls, while from his lips issued gasping sobs harshly dry and awful to hear.