This look had faded now to some extent.

The old man stood still, as one who had lost his way, not seeking for indications of that which he had lost, but looking right forwards and upwards, steadily, calmly, as if sure that something would appear.
Trenholme laid a strong hand upon his arm.

"Cameron!" he shouted, to see if that name would rouse him.

The arm that he grasped felt like a rock for strength and stillness.

The name which he shouted more than once did not seem to enter the ears of the man who had perhaps owned it in the past.