"
Mr. Marrapit's groan inspirited George. He was on the right track. He
took Note 4. "I asked myself, Who is responsible for the jeopardy in
which these creatures have been placed? Heaven knows, I said, what
they may not have suffered. This woman may have neglected their food,
she may have neglected their comforts. In a drunken fit she might have
poisoned them, beat them, set furious dogs upon them."
Mr. Marrapit writhed in anguish.
George acted as Note 4 bade him. He dropped his voice. "Let us trust,
sir," he said, "that none of these things has taken place."
"Amen," Mr. Marrapit murmured. "Amen."
George's voice took a sterner note. "But, I asked myself, Who is
responsible for those horrors that might have been, that may have
been?"
Mr. Marrapit dropped his head upon his hands. He murmured: "I am.
Peccavi."
George rose in noble calm. He read Note 5; gave it with masterly
effect: "No, sir. I am."
"You!"
"I! I have not slept since I leftyou, sir. I have paced my room and"
(he read a masterly note) "remorse has paced with me, step by step,
hour by hour. Did I help my uncle, I asked myself, when he was
selecting this Mrs. Major? No. Was I by his right hand to counsel and
advise him? No. Has not my training at hospital, my intercourse with
ten thousand patients, taught me to read faces like an open book? It
has.
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