The light of a shaded lamp shone upon his dusky face, showing the gleam of his watchful eyes, the crude lines of jaw and cheek-bone. He looked like a figure carved in bronze.
For hours he had knelt so in unceasing vigilance, gazing unblinking and tireless at the exhausted face upon the pillow. It might have been the face of a dead man upon which he gazed, but the pulses that fluttered in his hold told him otherwise. Lucas still held feebly, feebly, to his chain.
It was nearly an hour after midnight that a voice spoke in the utter silence.
"Boney!"
"I'm here, old chap."
"Good-bye, dear fellow!" It was scarcely more than a whisper. It seemed to come from closed lips.
"Open your eyes," said Nap.
Slowly the heavy lids opened. The blue eyes met the deep, mysterious gaze focussed upon them.
Silent as a ghost Capper glided forward. The nurse left the window, and the curtain floated out into the room, fluttering like an imprisoned thing seeking to escape.
"Ah, but, Boney—" the tired voice said, as though in protest.