mug of silence to the
bottom. I've--" He stopped short, seeing a strange look come over the
other's face, then stepped forward quickly as the old man half rose from
his chair, murmuring thickly:

"Mercy--David, my lord, come--!" he muttered, and staggered, and fell
into Soolsby's arms.

His head dropped forward on his breast, and with a great sigh he sank
into unconsciousness. Soolsby laid him on a couch, and ran to the door
and called aloud for help.

..........................

The man of silence was silent indeed now. In the room where paralysis
had fallen on him a bed was brought, and he lay nerveless on the verge
of a still deeper silence. The hours went by. His eyes opened, he saw
and recognised them all, but his look rested only on Faith and Soolsby;
and, as time went on, these were the only faces to which he gave an
answering look of understanding. Days wore away, but he neither spoke
nor moved.

People came and went softly, and he gave no heed. There was ever a
trouble in his eyes when they were open. Only when Soolsby came did it
seem to lessen. Faith saw this, and urged Soolsby to sit by him. She had
questioned much concerning what had happened before the stroke fell,
but Soolsby said only that the old man had been greatly troubled about
David. Once Lady Eglington, frail and gentle and sympathetic, came, but
the trouble deepened in his eyes, and the lids closed over them, so that
he might not see her face.

When she had gone, Soolsby, who had been present and had interpreted the
old man's look according to a knowledge all his own, came over to the
bed, leaned down and whispered: "I will speak now."

Then the eyes opened, and a smile faintly flickered at the mouth.

"I will speak now," Soolsby said again into the old man's ear.

CHAPTER XXV. THE VOICE THROUGH THE DOOR

That night Soolsby tapped at the door of the lighted laboratory of the
Cloistered House where Lord Eglington was at work; opened it, peered in,
and stepped inside.

With a glass retort in his hand Eglington faced him. "What's this--what
do you want?" he demanded.

"I want to try an experiment," answered Soolsby grimly.

"Ah, a scientific turn!" rejoined Eglington coolly--looking at him
narrowly, however. He was conscious of danger of some kind.

Then for a minute neither spoke. Now that Soolsby had come to the moment
for which he had waited for so many years, the situation was not what he
had so often prefigured. T