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presence, and the sound of his even, matter-of-fact tone, seemed to act like a tonic upon his late partner. He made no reference, however, to Laverick’s words.

      “You got my note?” he asked hoarsely.

      “Naturally I got it,” Laverick answered impatiently, “and I came at once. Try and pull yourself together. Sit up and tell me what you are doing here, frightening your sister out of her life.”

      Morrison groaned.

      “I came here,” he muttered, “because I dared not go to my own rooms. I was afraid!”

      Laverick struggled with the contempt he felt.

      “Man alive,” he exclaimed, “what was there to be afraid of?”

      “You don’t know!” Morrison faltered. “You don’t know!”

      Then, for the first time, it occurred to Laverick that perhaps the financial crisis in their affairs was not the only thing which had reduced his late partner to this hopeless state. He looked at him narrowly.

      “Where did you go last night,” he asked, “when you left me?”

      “Nowhere,” Morrison gasped. “I came here.”

      Laverick made a space for himself at the end of the bed, and sat down.

      “Look here,” he said, “it’s no use sending for me unless you mean to tell me everything. Have you been getting yourself into any trouble apart from our affairs, or is there anything in connection with them which I don’t know?”

      Again Morrison opened his lips, and again, for some reason or other, he remained speechless. Then a certain fear came also upon Laverick. There was something in Morrison’s state which was in itself terrifying.

      “You had better tell me all about it,” Laverick persisted, “whatever it is. I will help you if I can.”

      Morrison shook his head. There was a glass of water by his side. He thrust his finger into it and passed it across his lips. They were dry, almost cracking.

      “Look here,” he said, “I’ve got a breakdown—that’s what’s the matter with me. My nerves were never good. I’m afraid of going mad. The anxiety of the last few weeks has been too much for me. I want to get out of the country quickly, and I don’t know how to manage it. I can’t think. Directly I try to think my head goes round.”

      “There is nothing in the world to prevent your going away,” Laverick answered. “It is the simplest matter possible. Even if we had gone under to-day, no one could have stopped your going wherever you chose to go. Ruin, even if it had been ruin,—and I told you just now that business was better,—is not a crime. Pull yourself together, for Heaven’s sake, man! You should be ashamed to come here and frighten that poor little girl downstairs almost to death.”

      Morrison gripped his partner’s arm.

      “You must do as I ask,” he declared hoarsely. “It doesn’t matter about prices being better. I want to get away. You must help me.”

      Laverick looked at him steadily. Morrison was an ordinary young man of his type, something of a swaggerer, probably at heart a coward. But this was no ordinary fear—not even the ordinary fear of a coward. Laverick’s face became graver. There was something else, then!

      “I will get you out of the country if I can,” said he. “There is no difficulty about it at all unless you are concealing something from me. You can catch a fast steamer to-morrow, either for South Africa or New York, but before I make any definite plans, hadn’t you better tell me exactly what happened last night?”

      Once more Morrison’s lips parted without the ability to frame words. Then a feeble moan escaped him. He threw up his hands and his head fell back. The ghastliness of his face spread almost to his lips, and he sank back among the pillows. Laverick strode across the room to the door.

      “Are you anywhere about?” he called out.

      The girl was by his side in a moment.

      “There is nothing to be alarmed at,” he said, “but your brother has fainted. Bring me some sal volatile if you have it, and I think that you had better run out and get a doctor. I will stay with him. I know exactly what to do.”

      She pointed to the dressing-table, where a little bottle was standing, and ran downstairs without a word. Laverick mixed some of the spirit, and moved over to the side of the fainting man.

      XV. LAVERICK’s PARTNER FLEES

       Table of Contents

      The doctor, a grave, incurious person, arrived within a few minutes to find Morrison already conscious but absolutely exhausted. He felt his patient’s pulse, prescribed a draught, and followed Laverick down into the sitting room.

      “An ordinary case of nervous exhaustion,” he pronounced. “The patient appears to have had a very severe shock lately. He will be all right with proper diet and treatment, and a complete rest. I will call again to-morrow.”

      He accepted the fee which Laverick slipped into his hand, and took his departure. Once more Laverick was alone with the girl, who had followed them downstairs.

      “There is nothing to be alarmed at, you see,” he remarked.

      “It is not his health which frightens me. I am sure—I am quite sure that he has something upon his mind. Did he tell you nothing?”

      “Nothing at all,” Laverick answered, with an inward sense of thankfulness. “To tell you the truth, though, I am afraid you are right and that he did get into some sort of trouble last night. He was just about to tell me something when he fainted.”

      Upstairs they could hear him moaning. The girl listened with pitiful face.

      “What am I to do?” she asked. “I cannot leave him like this, and if I am not at the theatre in twenty minutes, I shall be fined.”

      “The theatre?” Laverick repeated.

      She nodded.

      “I am on the stage,” she said,—“only a chorus girl at the Universal, worse luck. Still, they don’t allow us to stay away, and I can’t afford to lose my place.”

      “Do you mean to say that you have been keeping yourself here, then?” Laverick asked bluntly.

      “Of course,” she answered. “I do not like to be a burden on any one, and after all, you see, Arthur and I are really not related at all. He has always told me, too, that times have been so bad lately.”

      Laverick was on the point of telling her that bad though they had been Arthur Morrison had never drawn less than fifteen hundred a year, but he checked himself. It was not his business to interfere.

      “I think,” he said, “that your brother ought to have provided for you. He could have done so with very little effort.”

      “But what am I to do now?” she asked him. “If I am absent, I shall lose my place.”

      Laverick thought for a moment.

      “If you went round there and told them,” he suggested, “would that make any difference? I could stay until you came back.”

      “Do you mind?” she asked eagerly. “It would be so kind of you.”

      “Not at all,” he answered. “Perhaps you would be good enough to bring a taxicab back, and I could take it on to my rooms. Take one from here, if you can find it. There are always some at the corner.”

      “I’d love to,” she answered. “I must run upstairs and get my hat and coat.”

      He watched her go up on tiptoe for fear of disturbing her brother. Her feet seemed almost unearthly in the lightness

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