He drove with reckless speed southward, remembering grimly,
"The King of France, with twenty thousand men,
Marched up the hill and then marched down again."
He tried not to think of Ellen; when, sometimes, her face appeared before him, his cheeks burned. The strange night had affected all his thoughts; his heart had somehow changed; he saw clearly what he would have made of Ellen.
As he drove into Harrisburg he felt the first premonition of a chill, and understood its significance. The pain in his hand had returned and when he stepped into his office he stumbled. The young assistant looked up from her desk and Miss Knowlton appeared at once from the inner room. He held out his hand.
"Ever see anything like that?"
Miss Knowlton undid the bandage. At his touch a blush covered her pale cheek, but when she looked up the color had vanished.
"Dr. Lanfair! What have you done?"
"I scratched myself on a wire. It's nothing."
"A girl in the hospital jabbed her hand with an icepick and infected it, and it had red streaks round it like this!"