'It's a
crisis.'
'It is,' said Tackleton. 'Come here, man!'
There was that in his pale face which made the
other rise immediately, and ask him, in a hurry, what
the matter was.
'Hush! John Peerybingle,' said Tackleton. 'I am
sorry for this. I am indeed. I have been afraid of
it. I have suspected it from the first.'
'What is it?' asked the Carrier, with a frightened
aspect.
'Hush! I'll show you, if you'll come with me.'
The Carrier accompanied him, without another
word. They went across a yard, where the stars were
shining, and by a little side-door, into Tackleton's
own counting-house, where there was a glass window
commanding the ware-room, which was closed for
the night. There was no light in the counting-house
itself, but there were lamps in the long narrow ware-
room; and consequently the window was bright.
'A moment! ' said Tackleton. 'Can you bear to
look through that window, do you think?'
'Why not?' returned the Carrier.
'A moment more,' said Tackleton. 'Don't commit
any violence. It's of no use.
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