“Sir Humphrey, uncle—the doctor,” replied Stephen, and the great doctor came a little nearer and felt the faint pulse.
“What’s he stopping for?” gasped the old man. “What can he do, and—why don’t he go?”
“We must not leave you, uncle, till you are better.”
A faint flame shot up in the old man’s eyes.
“Better, that’s a lie, you know. You always were——” Then a paroxysm of faintness took him, but he struggled with and overcame it.
“Is—is—Jack here?” he asked.
“I regret to say,” he replied, “that he is not. I cannot understand the delay. I hope, I fervently hope, that he has not willfully——”
“Did you tell him I was dying?” asked Ralph, watching him keenly.
“Can you doubt it?” murmured Stephen, meekly. “I particularly charged the messenger to say that my cousin was not to delay.”
The old man looked up with a sardonic smile.