His face turned them
cold. Through the mute misery which it had expressed at first, there
appeared, slowly forcing its way to view, a look of deadly vengeance
which froze them to the soul. They whispered feverishly one to the
other, without knowing what they were talking of, without hearing their
own voices. One of them said, "Ring the bell!" Another said, "Offer him
something, he will faint." The third shuddered, and repeated, over and
over again, "Why did we do it? Why did we do it?"
He silenced them on the instant by speaking on his side. He came on
slowly, by a step at a time, with the big drops of agony falling slowly
over his rugged face. He said, in a hoarse whisper, "Write me down the
name of the church--there." He held out his open pocketbook to Amelia
while he spoke. She steadied herself, and wrote the address. She tried
to say a word to soften him. The word died on her lips. There was a
light in his eyes as they looked at her which transfigured his face to
something superhuman and devilish. She turned away from him, shuddering.
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