Thrush leant across as they swam into the lighted terminus.
“In prison.”
“In prison! Your man Mullins?”
“Yes, Mr. Upton, he’s the man they arrested yesterday on suspicion of complicity in this Hyde Park affair!”
CHAPTER XVI.
MALINGERING
Pocket had put the fragments of his poor letter together again, and was still poring over those few detached and mutilated words, which were the very ones his tears had blotted, when there came a warning chink of tea-things on the stairs. He was just able to thrust the pieces back into his pocket, and to fling himself at full length on the bed, before Dr. Baumgartner entered with a tray.
“There, my young fellow! This will make a man of you! Then we shall see you yourself again by supper-time.”
“I’m not coming down again,” said Pocket. “Don’t force me, please”
“Force you?” Baumgartner cocked a keen eye at the open window. “What a tyrant you would make me out! On the contrary, I think you show your wisdom in remaining quiet. Perhaps you would be quieter still with the window shut—so—and fastened to prevent it rattling. I will open it when I come up again. There shall not be a sound in the house to disturb you.”
And he took to tiptoes there and then, gliding about with a smiling stealth that set Pocket shivering on the bed; he shivered the more when an admirable doctor’s hand, cool and smooth as steel, was laid upon his forehead.