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"Mr. Campbell, sir," said the man.

A sigh of relief broke from his parched lips, and the colour came

back to his cheeks.

"Ask him to come in at once, Francis." He felt that he was

himself again. His mood of cowardice had passed away.

The man bowed and retired. In a few moments, Alan Campbell walked

in, looking very stern and rather pale, his pallor being

intensified by his coal-black hair and dark eyebrows.

"Alan! This is kind of you. I thank you for coming."

"I had intended never to enter your house again, Gray. But you

said it was a matter of life and death." His voice was hard and

cold. He spoke with slow deliberation. There was a look of

contempt in the steady searching gaze that he turned on Dorian.

He kept his hands in the pockets of his Astrakhan coat, and

seemed not to have noticed the gesture with which he had been

greeted.

"Yes: it is a matter of life and death, Alan, and to more than

one person. Sit down."