IN THE TOILS
"This," the nurse said, after a moment's somewhat awkward pause, "is the doctor—Dr. Kretznow!"
A tall, awkwardly built man, wearing heavy glasses, turned away from the bedside, and looked at me inquiringly.
"My name is Courage, doctor," I said; "I am an acquaintance of your patient's."
The doctor frowned on me as he picked up his hat.
"I have given no permission," he said, "for my patient to receive visitors."
"I trust that you don't consider him too ill," I answered. "I was hoping to hear that he was better!"
"He is doing well enough," the doctor declared, "if he is left alone.
But," he added, in a lower tone, "he is a sick man—a very sick man."
I glanced towards the bedside, and was shocked at the deathly pallor of his face. His eyes were half closed. He had not the air of hearing anything that we said. I walked towards the door with the doctor.
"What is the matter with him, doctor?" I asked.