"God help me, I do."
Carl flung himself upon the floor, torn by great dry sobs of agony.
Shaking, Philip turned away. Presently Carl grew quieter and fell to
pouring forth an incoherent recital about a candlestick. From the
meaningless raving of the white, drawn lips came at last a single
sentence of lucid revelation. Philip leaped and shook him roughly by
the shoulder.
"Carl, think! think!" he cried fiercely. "For God's sake, think!
You--don't know what you are saying!"
But Carl repeated the statement again and again, and Philip's eyes grew
sombre. With quick, keen questions he reduced the chaotic yarn to
order.
The wild tale at an end, Carl fell back, limp and very tired.
"In God's name," thundered practical Philip, "why didn't you look in
the other candlestick?"
Carl stared. Then suddenly without a word of warning, he pitched
forward senseless upon the floor.
Philip loosened his clothing, rubbed his icy hands and limbs and bathed
his forehead, but the interval was long and trying before the stark
figure on the floor shuddered slightly and struggled weakly to a
sitting posture.
"I'm all right now," said Carl dully. "And I've got to go on. I--I
can't meet Diane." He drew something from his pocket and jabbed it in
his arm.
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