"North, old fellow," he said gently; "don't turn your back on all your friends. What have I done to be treated thus?" There was another pause, during which those on the landing listened anxiously fulsome response from within. But all remained perfectly still, and Salis ventured to appeal again. "I will not stop longer than you like, old fellow," he said; "but I am uneasy, and--" He was interrupted by the sharp snap made by the lock of the door. Then the handle was turned, and a long slit of darkness was revealed. "Come in," said a harsh voice; and Salis turned and gave Mrs Milt a satisfied nod and smile, as he entered North's room and closed the door. The sensation was strange, that passing from broad daylight into intense darkness, and Salis tried to recall the configuration of the room, and the position of window and bed, as he felt North brush past him, and lock the door. For it was evident that an attempt had been made to exclude every ray of light, and not without success. "Well, I am glad--I was going to say to see you, old fellow," cried Salis. "Hadn't you better open the curtains and the window? This room smells very faint." "Brandy spilt," said North, alluding to his accident of many days before. "Brandy? Why, the place smells of laudanum and chloroform, and goodness knows what besides." "You wanted to speak to me," said North. "Yes, I've a great deal to say; but I should like to sit down." "There is a chair on your left." "Ah, yes. Thanks," said Salis, feeling about until he touched it, and sitting down. "Where are you?" "Sitting on the bed." "Well, I suppose you have a reason for this blind-man's-buff work. Eyes bad?" "Very." "May I say a few words to you about getting advice?" "Aren't you afraid of shutting yourself up with me here in the dark? There are razors in that drawer. There's a bottle of prussic acid on the dressing-table. Why, parson, you're a fool!" The voice seemed changed, and this speech was followed by a curious mocking laugh which ran through Salis and made him shrink; but he recovered himself directly. "No," he said stoutly; "I am not afraid." "No, you are not afraid," came softly from out of the darkness. "Come, North, old fellow," continued Salis; "we are old friends. You have helped me when I have been in sore distress; forgive me, now that I know you are in trouble, for thrusting myself upon you." "I have nothing to forgive." "Then let me help you. Believe me that Mary and I are both terribly concerned about your health. Tell me what I can do." There was a pause; then a low, piteous sigh; and from out of the darkness came the word-- "Nothing--!" "I can't understand your complaint, of course, old fellow; but tell me one thing. Are you sufficiently _compos mentis_ to know what to do for yourself for the best?" "Quite, Salis, quite," said North slowly. "And you are ill, and are carrying out a definite line of action?" "I am doing what is really--what is for the best."