She turned back into the room.
Skilful hands were undressing David.
Something lay on the floor. Mechanically Diana stooped and picked it up. It was his little short black jacket; the rather threadbare "old friend."
Diana gave one loud sudden cry, and put her hand to her throat.
Sir Deryck stepped quickly between her and the bed; then led her firmly to the door.
"Go to your room," he said. "It is so far better that you should not be here just now. Everything possible shall be done. You know you can confidently leave him to us. David himself would wish you to leave him to us. Sit down and face the situation calmly. He may regain consciousness, and if he does, you must be ready, and you must have yourself well in hand."
The doctor put her gently out, through the half-open door.
Diana turned, hesitating.
"You would call me—if?"
"Yes," said the doctor; "I will call you—then."