"All of which we can avoid. It only wants time. There, I'll go up and see him now, and Mr Brettison, too. Mind, I rely upon your being discreet." "Of course, sir, and thank you for coming in. You don't know how much good you've done me, sir." "I'm glad you spoke to me," said Guest; and he went across the inn to Stratton's chambers. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. IN GROSS DARKNESS. The staircase was very gloomy and quiet as Guest ascended, and he paused on the landing on finding Stratton's outer door shut, and after a few moments' hesitation, turned off to the left, meaning to have a few words with Brettison about their friend's state. This door was also shut and he turned back, but feeling that, perhaps, after all, Brettison might be in, he knocked; waited; knocked again, and stood listening. "Off somewhere again picking flowers," muttered Guest. "Men begin by picking them as children, and some end their lives gathering the sweet, innocent looking things." He, however, gave one more double knock before turning away and going back to Stratton's door. Here he knocked gently, but there was no reply. He knocked again, feeling a sensation of nervousness come over him as he thought of the words of the porter's wife; and, as there was no reply, he could not help a little self-congratulation at there being no admission. But he frowned at his weakness directly. "Absurd! Cowardice!" he muttered. "This is nothing like acting the friend." He knocked again, and, as there was still silence, he lifted the cover of the letter slit and placed his lips to the place. "Here, Malcolm, old fellow, open this door," he cried. "I'm sure you are there." A faint rustling sound within told him he was right, and directly after the door was opened. "You, Percy!" said the hollow-faced, haggard man, staring at him, and giving way unwillingly as, forcing himself to act, Guest stepped forward and entered the room. He repented the moment he was inside, for the room looked strange and gloomy through the window blind being drawn down, and there was a singularly wild, strained look in Stratton's eyes, which never left him for a moment, suggestive of the truth of Mrs Brade's words. Stratton had hurriedly closed the outer door upon his friend's entrance, but he had left the inner undone; and now stood holding it open as if for his visitor to go. Guest felt ready to obey, but he again mastered his weakness and took a chair, knowing that if he was to perform a manly act and save his friend, he must be calm and firm. But in spite of himself, as he took his seat he gave a hasty glance round the room, thinking of its loneliness, and the extreme improbability of anyone hearing a cry for help. "Why have you come back so soon?" said Stratton at last. "The old reason. Sort of stupid, spaniel-like feeling for the man who kicks me." Stratton made a hasty gesture. "Didn't like to stop away long after your being so upset last night."