And the phrase one of them had used a moment ago--"this
_last_ visit of his"--rose before his eyes in letters of flame.
Harris was not a man of action, and had never known in all the course of
his career what it meant to be in a situation of real danger. He was not
necessarily a coward, though, perhaps, a man of untried nerve. He
realised at last plainly that he was in a very awkward predicament
indeed, and that he had to deal with men who were utterly in earnest.
What their intentions were he only vaguely guessed. His mind, indeed,
was too confused for definite ratiocination, and he was only able to
follow blindly the strongest instincts that moved in him. It never
occurred to him that the Brothers might all be mad, or that he himself
might have temporarily lost his senses and be suffering under some
terrible delusion. In fact, nothing occurred to him--he realised
nothing--except that he meant to escape--and the quicker the better. A
tremendous revulsion of feeling set in and overpowered him.
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