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Thurston, Katherine Cecil, 1875-1911

"The Masquerader"

"I--I had a beastly night; my nerves
are horribly jarred; and I thought--I think--" He stopped.
With his increasing consciousness his nervous collapse became
more marked. At the first moment of waking, the relief of an
unexpected presence had surmounted everything else; but now,
as one by one his faculties stirred, his wretched condition
became patent. With a new sense of perturbation Loder made
his next attack.
"Chilcote--" he began, sternly.
But again Chilcote caught his arm, plucking at the
coat-sleeve. "Where is it?" he said. "Where is the tube of
tabloids--the sedative? I'm--I'm obliged to take something
when my nerves go wrong--" In his weakness and nervous tremor
he forgot that Loder was the sharer of his secret. Even in
his extremity his fear of detection clung to him limply--the
lies that had become second nature slipped from him without
effort. Then suddenly a fresh panic seized him; his fingers
tightened spasmodically, his eyes ceased to rove about the
room and settled on his companion's face.


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