He fell to musing on the accident in the park, wondering how he would have acted in Mr.Juxon's place, wondering especially what object could have led the wretched tramp to attack the squire, wondering too at the very great anxiety shown by Mrs.Goddard.
As he sat by the bedside, the sick man suddenly moved and turning his eyes full upon John's face stared at him with a look of dazed surprise.
He thrust out his wounded hand, bound up in a white handkerchief through which a little blood was slowly oozing, and to John's infinite surprise he spoke.
"Who are you ?" he asked in a strange, mumbling voice, as though he had pebbles in his mouth.
John started forward in his chair and looked intently at Goddard's face.
"My name is Short," he answered mechanically.

But the passing flash of intelligence was already gone, and Goddard's look became a glassy and idiotic stare.

Still his lips moved.

John came nearer and listened.
"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" said the sick man quite intelligibly, in spite of his uncertain tone.

John uttered an exclamation of astonishment; his heart beat fast and he listened intently.