Haggard,' said one of the bookkeepers. 'Petty treason, it is, to take a knife to a master. She has to burn.' Haggard thrust one arm under Emma's knees, the other under her shoulders, reached his feet with a gigantic effort. He could feel the blood trickling down his naked leg. 'John . . .'Ferguson reached for him again. This is madness.' 'Away.' Haggard said, and found himself at the foot of the steps, the entire afternoon revolving round and round his head. He gritted his teeth and commenced the ascent, foot in front of foot, step by step. The girl was making a peculiar moaning sound, and she was shivering as if frozen, for all the heat in the afternoon. Amazingly he was at the top and crossing the hall. But in front of him loomed yet another Bight, an endless accumulation of heights to be mounted. His teeth were clamped so tight he could almost feel the enamel wearing away. But up he went, again and again and again, aware that Middlesex was immediately behind him, waiting to catch him if he fell backwards.
