I thought he was; I'll kill him if I can find him!' And he tore out of the house before I could move to stop him."
Again the red silk handkerchief went across Mr. Morley's forehead. The mere recollection of the scene bedewed his brow with sweat.
"Well, sir, I sat up for him all night, and my wife, she sat up to keep me company; but he never came home. We listened to every sound, and we jumped at every footstep that came near the house, thinking it was him. Emma—that's Mrs. Morley—kept on snivelling pretty nearly all the time. 'Joe,' she kept on saying—my name's Joe, sir, leastways Joseph—'Joe, do you think that Mr. Philip's killing him?'
"To be asked such a question made one feel like killing her; for it was the very question which I kept putting to myself all through the night. My feeling was that Mr. Philip had been drinking more than he was used to, and that letter found him in an evil mood; and when he's in one of his rages he's not the good, kind-hearted, fair-minded gentleman he generally is, he's more like a raving lunatic, although I say it, and capable of anything.
"When morning came, and there were still no signs of him, I couldn't stand it any longer. So I came round to see Mr. Edwin, and directly I came they told me he had been murdered.
