He passed on and Hunterleys entered the hospital. Whilst he was waiting in the little reception-room, Felicia came in. Her face showed signs of her night's anxiety.
"Sidney is still unconscious," she announced, her voice shaking a little. "The doctors seem hopeful—but oh! Sir Henry, it is terrible to see him lying there just as though he were dead!"
"Sidney will pull through all right," Hunterleys declared, encouragingly. "He has a wonderful constitution and he is the luckiest fellow born. He always gets out of trouble, somehow or other."
She came slowly up to him.
"Sir Henry," she said piteously, "I know quite well that Sidney was willing to take his risks. He went into this thing, knowing it was dangerous. I want to be brave. What happens must be. But listen. You won't—you won't rob me of everything in life, will you? You won't send David after him?"
Hunterleys smiled reassuringly.
"I can promise you that," he told her. "This isn't David's job at all. He has to stick to his post and help out the bluff as a press correspondent. Don't be afraid, Felicia. You shall have your David."
She seized his hand and kissed it.
"You have been so kind to me always, Sir Henry," she sighed. "I can't tell you how thankful I am to think that you don't want David to go and run these horrible risks."
"No fear of that, I promise you," he assured her once more. "David will be busy enough pulling the strings another way."