"
Langholm raised him in his arms.
"Another--hemorrhage!" said Severino, in a gasping whisper.
And his blood dripped with the words.
Langholm propped him up and rushed out shouting for Brunton--for Mrs.
Brunton--for anybody in the house. Both were in, and the woman came up
bravely without a word.
"I'll go for the doctor myself," said Langholm. "I shall be quickest."
And he went on his bicycle, hatless, with an unlit lamp.
But the doctor came too late.
CHAPTER XXVIII
IN THE MATTER OF A MOTIVE
That was between eight and nine o'clock at night; before ten an
outrageous thought occurred to the man with the undisciplined
imagination. It closed his mind to the tragedy of an hour ago, to the
dead man lying upstairs, whose low and eager voice still went on and on
in his ears. It was a thought that possessed Langholm like an unclean
spirit from the moment in which he raised his eyes from the last words
of the manuscript to which the dead man had referred.
In the long, low room that Langholm lived in a fire was necessary in
damp weather, irrespective of the season. It was on the fire that his
eyes fell, straight from the paper in his hand .
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