"You must do something, Loder!" he added,
nervously, checking his amusement; "you must do something!"
Loder looked down at him. "No," he said, decisively. "It's
your turn now. It's you who've got to do something."
Chilcote's face turned a shade grayer. "I can't," he said,
below his breath.
"Can't? Oh yes, you can. We can all do--anything. It's not
too late; there's just sufficient time. Chilcote," he added,
suddenly, "don't you see that the thing has been madness all
along--has been like playing with the most infernal explosives?
You may thank whatever you have faith in that nobody has been
smashed up! You are going back. Do you understand me? You
are going back--now, to-day, before it's too late." There was
a great change in Loder; his strong, imperturbable face was
stirred; he was moved in both voice and manner. Time after
time he repeated his injunction--reasoning, expostulating,
insisting. It almost seemed that he fought some strenuous
invisible force rather than the shattered man before him.
Pages:
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374