"Yes," he said, "I have been a fool and an idiot not to have gone before. Curse the fellow: who could it be?" he cried, as he pressed his hand to his injured forehead. He took out his keys and opened a drawer in a cabinet, taking from it a hammer and cold chisel, and then stood thinking for a few moments before hurrying out, and into a little lobby behind the hall, from which he brought a small carpet-bag. "That will just hold it," he said, "and a few of the things that she is sure to have." He turned into the dining-room, going softly, as if he were engaged in some nefarious act. Then he picked up the hammer and chisel, and was about to return into the hall, when he heard a low murmur, which seemed to be increasing, and with it the trampling of feet, and shouts of excited men. "What's that?" he cried, with his countenance growing ghastly pale; and the cold chisel fell to the floor with a clang. VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER THIRTEEN. A HUMAN STORM. The woman who had been acting the part of nurse to old Gemp was seated by the table, busily knitting a pair of blue worsted stockings by the light of a tallow candle, and every few minutes the snuff had so increased, and began to show so fungus-like a head, that the needles had to be left, a pair of snuffers taken out of their home in a niche that ran through the stem of the tin candlestick, and used to cut off the light-destroying snuff, with the effect that the snuffers were not sufficiently pinched to, and a thread of pale blue smoke rose from the incandescence within, and certainly with no good effect as far as fragrance was concerned. Old Gemp had become a great deal better. He had been up and dressed, and sat by the fireside for a couple of hours that afternoon, and had then expressed his determination not to go to bed. But his opposition was very slight, and he was got to bed, where he seemed to be lying thinking, and trying to recall something which evidently puzzled him. In fact all at once he called his nurse. "Mrs Preddle! Mrs Preddle!" "Yes," said that lady with a weary air. "What was I thinking about when I was took badly?" "I don't know," said the woman sourly. "About somebody else's business, I suppose." Old Gemp grunted, and shook his head. Then he was silent, and lay staring about the room, passing his hand across his forehead every now and then, or shaving himself with one finger, with which all at once he would point at his nurse. "I say!" he cried sharply. "Bless the man! how you made me jump!" cried Mrs Preddle. "And, for goodness' sake, don't point at me like that! Easy to see you're getting better, and won't want me long." "No, no! don't go away!" he exclaimed. "I can't think about it." "Well, and no wonder neither! Why, bless the man! people don't have bad fits o' 'plexy and not feel nothing after! There, lie still, and go to sleep, there's a good soul! It'll do you good."