"Perhaps, John, a little brandy would do him good," murmured Willie.
"Father, do tell me what is the matter. Willie, reach up and tell the man to stop."
"No, no," he gasped. "Go on. It is--only--a passing spasm."
He must have time, even a few minutes, in which to drive off the awful specter that hugged him in the embrace of death. He dared not look at his sons. If he were compelled to face them on the pavement in the flaring gaslight, he would run away.
His anguish was pitiable. Great drops of sweat stood clammy on his forehead. He passed a trembling hand across his face, and groaned aloud unconsciously:
It was the first prayer that had voluntarily left his lips for many a day.
The boys heard. They interpreted it as an expression of sorrow that his own career should have been so cut off from their childhood and joyous youth.
"Well, cheer up, dad, anyhow," cried the elder, much relieved by this conclusion. "We are all together again, and you can face the world once more with us at your side."
No dagger of steel could have hurt so dreadfully as this well-meant consolation. But for the sake of his sons the man wrestled with his agony, and conquered it to some outward seeming.
When the cab stopped outside a big building he was steady on his feet when he alighted, and he managed to summon a ghastly smile to his aid as he said to John:
"I am sorry to set you a bad example. But that is nothing new, is it? I must have some spirit, strong spirit, or I can't keep up."
"Certainly, father. Why not? It is all right as medicine. Willie, you go and get some brandy while I take father upstairs."
Their flat was on the second floor. It was neatly furnished, fitted with electric light, and contained five rooms.
John talked freely, explaining housekeeping arrangements, the puzzle as to their father's size, for the first bed they bought was a short one, their hours of work, the variety of their employment, any and every cheering topic, indeed, until Willie came with a bottle.
Both of them glanced askance at the quantity Mason consumed, but they passed no comment. He tried to smoke, and sat so that the light should not fall on his face. And then he said to them:
"Tell me all you know about Philip Anson. It interests me."