"But how did you hear of my accident?" questioned Max. "You were not to have been told until it was all happily over. I did not want to cause you useless anxiety."
"I received a telegram from your doctor, yesterday. He communicated to me that you were badly wounded and in a critical condition. I was to hold myself prepared for the worst. An hour later I was on the road hither, and I reached this town by the next express."
"A confounded old fool!" burst out Max, in a fury. "Is it not enough that he has tormented me and all the people about me with this rubbish, that now he must bring you here, too? If I could have guessed it, this morning, I would have taken him to book in another fashion."
Dr. Brunnow looked at his son in speechless amazement. Then he heaved a deep-drawn sigh of relief.
"Well, if you can fulminate in that manner, things cannot be so very bad, I fancy. I feared to find you in a very different state. How was the danger so speedily averted?"
"There never was any danger. A good deal of fever, a little weakness through loss of blood, that was all. But now tell me, father----"
"By-and-by. I must look at this wound first myself" interrupted his father, still visibly agitated. "I shall not be easy until I have satisfied myself with my own eyes."
He took off the bandage, and began to examine the appearance of the wound. During this investigation his brow cleared, and at length he said, with a little shake of the head:
"You are right. The wound is deep, and may have produced some serious symptoms at first, but it is not one involving danger to life, I don't understand your surgeon."
"Heaven have mercy on the patient who falls into his hands!" said Max, emphatically. "But notwithstanding that unlucky telegram, I cannot think how you could resolve on coming to this place. You know that you are under a ban--that the old sentence is still in force. Directly they recognise you, you will be arrested, and imprisoned in the citadel again."