The glory of the morning turned the world to gold, and presently Atherton awakened, strengthened and refreshed, and for the first time since his accident, feeling that he was really himself once more. Consciousness, or rather semi-consciousness, had returned a week ago, and since that time he had dwelt in a state of delightful convalescence, sleeping, eating, sleeping again, his body slowly regaining the energy destroyed by the ravages of the fever. He had been forbidden to talk, and at first, indeed, his brain had been too incurious for him to wonder greatly concerning the events of the night on which he had been struck down.
Helen herself was safe, for she had come often to relieve the nurse and to sit by his side, while he had purposely feigned sleep for the delight of watching her from half-closed eyes. And Mr. Hamilton was unharmed, for he too had found time to make occasional visits to the sick room. And therefore the success or failure of Stoat's mission had seemed to him, at first, a matter of relative unimportance. But now, as his strength returned, so did his interest in the whole affair, and he found himself hoping that Stoat had achieved what he was after, for that, he felt, would be the surest way of freeing the Hamilton household from danger. And if successful, how, he wondered, were Mills and Blagden progressing with their hair-brained scheme of acquiring riches untold.
His curiosity was soon to be gratified, for that afternoon, after the doctor had made his visit, Marshall Hamilton came into the room, and drew up a chair beside the bed.
"Doctor Carrington informs me," he began, "that you are out of all danger, and on the high-road to recovery."
Atherton felt instinctively that there was something behind the words, and that they were not the mere commonplaces they seemed. "Yes, indeed," he answered. "I'm feeling very fit. Almost as well as ever."
"That is good," the banker answered, "and I am doubly glad, because it now becomes necessary for us to have a talk of some importance."
It was coming, then. Atherton mentally braced himself for the ordeal. "I am ready," he said.
There was silence. Then, "You had two friends," said Marshall Hamilton, "named Blagden and Mills."
Atherton gave him a quick glance, but the face of the financier was inscrutable. Yet Atherton was sure that the "had" was no mere slip of the tongue, and the significance of the word was not lost upon him. "Yes," he answered, "that is so."
"They are dead," said Marshall Hamilton.