"No--it can stay off," she said. "You're getting on entirely too well to be fussed over any more. And now if you'll go in and see uncle, I'll be obliged. He has been dozing, but he comes to with a start every few minutes and asks for you. I'm hoping you can quiet his mind, for his worry isn't at all good for him." And her voice quivered with a pathetic note of affectionate anxiety.
Wharton Kendrick lay on the couch with his eyes closed, but opened them vacantly as I came in. Mercy Fillmore sat by his side. He collected himself with an effort, and said:
"I've been wanting you, Hampden! What was it you were to see about? Some business, wasn't it?" His eyes wandered, as though he were seeking for some lost thread of memory.
I gave him a condensed account of my visit to William T. Coleman. He heard me listlessly until I came to the request to make out a check for the syndicate's balance in favor of Nelson. Then he started violently, and half raised himself.
"I'll see 'em damned first!" he cried. "How can I protect myself if the money is turned over to Nelson?" He looked about wildly, fiercely; then sank back and closed his eyes.
Mercy Fillmore shook her head at me, and her eyes expressed reproach.
"You are exciting him," she whispered. "Isn't this business something that can be put off?"
He heard her and answered:
"No, it can't be put off. There'll be a smash in the market in the morning, and I shan't be there to stop it!" He had begun with energy, but his voice trailed off into a querulous tone as he added: "What shall I do? What shall I do?" Then suddenly a look of resolution came into his face. "Bring me my check-book," he cried with feverish impatience. "There's one in that coat pocket. Be quick about it!"
The book was produced, and after looking at it helplessly for a little he handed it back to me. Then he seemed to collect his faculties and asked: