settled down for a quiet chat. I shall never forget that talk. The lad
was not maudlin, and he utterly refused to whimper, but he seemed
suddenly to have seen the horror of the past. "You can stop in time, old
man," he said, "but I can't. When I'm well, I'll turn to work, and I'll
try to keep other chaps from getting into the mud. It would be funny to
see me preaching to the boys up river, wouldn't it?" For a moment I
thought, "I'll turn teetotal as well," but I did not say it. I bent
towards Bob and asked, "Would you care to see your mother, old man?" He
smiled beautifully, and eagerly answered, "Go for her now."

I was away about two hours, and returned with Mrs. Darbishire. The
landlord met us, and gravely said "I've been away, but the potman tells
me a queer yarn. Mr. Darbishire made queer signs out of window to the
man you call the Ramper, and Mr. Ramper goes to the pub over the way and
then up to the room. And now Mr. Robert's been locked in for a hour and
a half." My heart gave one leap, and then I felt cold. We hurried up
stairs, and we heard a long shrill snarl--not like a human voice.

"Locked! Fetch a crowbar, and call up one of the lads to help."

We burst open the door, and there on the bed lay Bob. He was chattering,
as it were, in his sleep, and a brandy bottle lay on the floor. He had
swallowed nearly the whole of the poison raw, and his limbs were
paralyzed. Suddenly he opened his eyes; then he writhed and yelled,
"Mother!--the beast! the beast!" The lady threw herself down on her
knees with a pitiful cry, but Bob did not speak to her. He never spoke
any more.