"Needlessly!" she repeated with a sorrowful smile. "It is all I can do for him—to watch by his side. He will not live—he will not live, I am sure."
The squire inwardly prayed that she might be right, and left her alone with the sick man. Who, he thought, was better fitted, who had a stronger right to be at his bedside at such a time? If only he might die! For if he lived, how much more terrible would the separation be, when Booley the detective came to conduct him back to his prison! In truth, it would be more terrible even than Mr. Juxon imagined.
Meanwhile he must go and see to the rest of the household. He must speak to John Short; he must see Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, and he must take precautions against any of them seeing Mr. Booley. This was, he thought, very important, and he resolved to speak with the latter first. John was probably asleep, worn out with the watching of the night.
Mr. Booley sat in the squire's study where he had been left almost an hour earlier. He had installed himself in a comfortable corner by the fire and was reading the morning paper which he had found unopened upon the table. He seemed thoroughly at home as he sat there, a pair of glasses upon his nose and his feet stretched out towards the flame upon the hearth.
"Thank you, I am doing very well, Mr. Juxon," he said as the squire entered.
"Oh—I am very glad," answered Mr. Juxon politely. The information was wholly voluntary as he had not asked any question concerning the detective's comfort.
"And how is the patient?" inquired Mr. Booley. "Do you think there is any chance of removing him this afternoon?"
"This afternoon?" repeated the squire, in some astonishment. "The man is very ill. It may be weeks before he can be removed."
"Oh!" ejaculated the other. "I was not aware of that. I cannot possibly stay so long. To-morrow, at the latest, he will have to go."
"But, my dear sir," argued Mr. Juxon, "the thing is quite impossible. The doctor can testify to that—"