Hutley, that you sent for tonight, you know.’

“ ‘Ah!’ said the invalid, passing his hand across his forehead; ‘Hutley⁠—Hutley⁠—let me see.’ He seemed endeavouring to collect his thoughts for a few seconds, and then grasping me tightly by the wrist said, ‘Don’t leave me⁠—don’t leave me, old fellow. She’ll murder me; I know she will.’

“ ‘Has he been long so?’ said I, addressing his weeping wife.

“ ‘Since yesterday night,’ she replied. ‘John, John, don’t you know me?’