Instantly Frank decided to humor him and try to soothe his mind.
“Let the rascal go,” he said, softly. “No one shall be punished. Perhaps it is better for me that he should lose my small fortune than that he should have doubled it. If he had succeeded in making me very rich, I might have become a worthless fellow in the world, content to live on what I possessed. Now I shall have to become a worker, and only workers are worthy to live.”
The professor clasped his fingers very tightly together and stared at the ceiling for some seconds.
“You are right about that,” he said, at last; “but that does not make him any less a criminal. Why do you suppose that pain darts through my head when I try to think? It goes through my eyes and up into the top of my head like a knife.”
“You should not think. What you need is rest—is sleep.”
“I cannot sleep. I have tried. No matter. He left me here to suffer in his place. Perhaps it is right that I should not sleep.”
“No; it is wrong. Wait. I must wash off the dust. I will return in a short time.”
Then Frank went out, found Toots and sent him in haste for the village doctor.
The doctor came and made an examination. He talked with Scotch, asking him many questions. The professor was rambling in his talk. The doctor left some medicine and called Frank from the room.
“His condition is very serious,” said the physician, sagely. “He is threatened by a complete loss of his mental faculties. He must have perfect rest, and light, nourishing food. Give him the medicine according to the directions I have written, and I will call early in the morning. Good-night.”