"Dark and damnable.
Turned out of my room among all these dangers."
"That's hard," ventured Graham. "That's hard on you."
"Darkness. An old man lost in the darkness. And all the world gone mad.
War and fighting. The police beaten and rogues abroad. Why don't they
bring some negroes to protect us? ... No more dark passages for me. I
fell over a dead man."
"You're safer with company," said the old man, "if it's company of
the right sort," and peered frankly. He rose suddenly and came
towards Graham.
Apparently the scrutiny was satisfactory. The old man sat down as if
relieved to be no longer alone. "Eh!" he said, "but this is a terrible
time! War and fighting, and the dead lying there--men, strong men, dying
in the dark. Sons! I have three sons. God knows where they are to-night."
The voice ceased. Then repeated quavering: "God knows where they are
to-night."
Graham stood revolving a question that should not betray his ignorance.
Again the old man's voice ended the pause.
"This Ostrog will win," he said. "He will win. And what the world will
be like under him no one can tell. My sons are under the wind-vanes,
all three. One of my daughters-in-law was his mistress for a while.
His mistress! We're not common people. Though they've sent me to
wander to-night and take my chance.... I knew what was going on.
Before most people. But this darkness! And to fall over a dead body
suddenly in the dark!"
His wheezy breathing could be heard.
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