“Poor mother,” he remarked anxiously, “do you think she will pull through, Professor? Betty says that Dr. Wilson has given her no idea yet about the nature of the trouble.”
Kennedy thought a moment. “Of course,” he said, “your mother has had no such relative amount of the poison as Buster has had. I think that undoubtedly she will recover by purely natural means. I hope so. But if not, here is the apparatus,” and he patted the vividiffusion tubes in their glass case, “that will save her, too.”
As well as I could I explained to Reginald the nature of the toxin that Kennedy had discovered. Duncan listened, putting in a question now and then. But it was evident that his thoughts were on something else, and now and then Reginald, breaking into his old humor, rallied him about thinking of Betty.
A low exclamation from both Kennedy and the surgeon attracted us.
Dora Sears had moved.
The operation of the apparatus was stopped, the artery and vein had been joined up, and she was slowly coming out from under the effects of the anesthetic.
As we gathered about her, at a little distance, we heard her cry in her delirium, “I—I would have—done—anything—for him.”
We strained our ears. Was she talking of the blackmailer, Dr. Hopf?
“Who?” asked Craig, bending over close to her ear.
“I—I would—have done anything,” she repeated as if someone had contradicted her. She went on, dreamily, ramblingly, “He—is—is—my brother. I—”