"Dr. Franz? I suppose my respected colleague cannot get over this morning's astounding resurrection, and means to have an official report of the case drawn up in due form. I will give the gentleman----"
Suddenly he stopped. As his eye fell on the handwriting, he started violently, and an expression of alarm came over his features, while his fingers closed convulsively on the card. Agnes, who had raised the lamp-shade to enable him to read it, was struck by the change in him.
"What is it, dear?" she asked, "Do you know this Dr. Franz?"
In spite of the convent education, they had got so far as this caressing little epithet "dear" in the course of the day.
"Yes, I have known him some time," said Max, collecting himself with an effort--try as he would, however, he could not speak with quite his wonted steadiness. "I will see him, certainly, at once; and do me a favour, Agnes. Leave us together while he is here, and take care that we are not disturbed."
Agnes looked a little puzzled. Max had hardly let her stir from his side during the day, and now he was sending her from him. Fortunately, the light was too subdued for her to notice the young man's suppressed agitation; she quieted herself with the thought that, no doubt, a medical consultation was to be held, and went away to tell the new-comer he was expected.
The stranger, a grey-haired man of meagre form and stooping gait, at once obeyed the summons. On entering, he closed the door of the sick-room quickly behind him, and hurried up to the invalid, who had raised himself in his bed, and stretched out both hands to his visitor.
"Father! For God's sake, what brought you here? How could you run such a risk?"
For all answer, Dr. Rudolph Brunnow put his arm round his son's shoulders, and scanned his features with a careful, anxious scrutiny.
"You are better? They told me so outside. Thank God!"