If you think you can do better,
well and good. If--"
He stopped suddenly in his sentence, then rising, he cried, "It is a
trick--a vile, infamous, disgraceful trick!" while his utterance grew
thick, and his face began to work like that of a person in convulsions.
"What do you mean?" I asked, rising also, and turning to look in the
direction he indicated with outstretched arm and dilated eyes.
Then I saw--no need for him to answer. Standing in the entrance to the
strong room was Robert Elmsdale himself, darkness for a background, the
light of the gas falling full upon his face.
Slowly, sternly, he came forward, step by step. With footfalls that
fell noiselessly, he advanced across the carpet, moving steadily
forward towards Mr. Harringford, who, beating the air with his hands,
screamed, "Keep him off! don't let him touch me!" and fell full length
on the floor.
Next instant, Munro was in the room. "Hullo, what is the matter?" he
asked. "What have you done to him--what has he been doing to you?"
I could not answer. Looking in my face, I think Munro understood we had
both seen that which no man can behold unappalled.
"Come, Hal," he said, "bestir yourself. Whatever has happened, don't
sink under it like a woman. Help me to lift him.
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