"No, he is asleep."

"Asleep?"

"Yes. He was asleep when we came in and he is asleep yet. Some of
the neighbours wanted to wake him, but I would not let them. His
wits are not strong enough to bear a sudden shock."

"No, no, poor Philemon! But that he should sit sleeping here while
she--But what do these bottles mean and this parade of supper in a
room they were not accustomed to eat in?"

"We don't know. It has not been eaten, you see. He has swallowed a
glass of port, but that is all. The other glasses have had no wine
in them, nor have the victuals been touched."

"Seats set for three and only one occupied," murmured Mr.
Sutherland. "Strange! Could he have expected guests?"

"It looks like it. I didn't know that his wife allowed him such
privileges; but she was always too good to him, and I fear has
paid for it with her life."

"Nonsense! he never killed her. Had his love been anything short
of the worship it was, he stood in too much awe of her to lift his
hand against her, even in his most demented moments."

"I don't trust men of uncertain wits," returned the other. "You
have not noticed everything that is to be seen in this room."