“Is he asleep?” Hamel asked.
“He is under the influence of a mild anaesthetic,” Doctor Sarson explained. “He is doing very well. His case is quite simple. By to-morrow morning he will be able to sit up and walk about if he wishes to.”
Hamel looked steadily at the figure upon the bed. Mr. Dunster’s breathing was regular, and his eyes were closed, but his colour was ghastly.
“He doesn’t look like getting up for a good many days to come,” Hamel observed.
The doctor led the way towards the door.
“The man has a fine constitution,” he said. “I feel sure that if you wish you will be able to talk to him to-morrow.”
They separated outside in the passage. Mr. Fentolin bade his guest a somewhat restrained good night, and Gerald mounted the staircase to his room. Hamel, however, had scarcely reached his door before Gerald reappeared. He had descended the stair-case at the other end of the corridor. He stood for a moment looking down the passage. The doors were all closed. Even the light had been extinguished.
“May I come in for a moment, please?” he whispered.
Hamel nodded.
“With pleasure! Come in and have a cigarette if you will. I shan’t feel like sleep for some time.”