"Oh, Van Weyden! where are you ?" I looked at Maud.

She did not speak, but nodded her head.
"Here I am," I answered, stepping to his side.

"What is the matter ?" "Help me to a seat," he said, in the same hoarse, frightened voice.
"I am a sick man; a very sick man, Hump," he said, as he left my sustaining grip and sank into a chair.
His head dropped forward on the table and was buried in his hands.

From time to time it rocked back and forward as with pain.

Once, when he half raised it, I saw the sweat standing in heavy drops on his forehead about the roots of his hair.
"I am a sick man, a very sick man," he repeated again, and yet once again.
"What is the matter ?" I asked, resting my hand on his shoulder.