Max was more bewildered than ever by this new turn of affairs. With a dogged determination not to be kept any longer out of a secret of which everybody but himself seemed to know something, he went straight up to the sick-room in search of Carrie. His knock, however, was answered by the professional nurse, who opened the door and asked him what he wanted.
"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Max. "At least—I wanted to know how Mr. Horne is now."
"He won't be so well to-night, I expect," answered the nurse, tartly. "There's been a great noise and disturbance outside, and he's heard something of it, and it's made him restless and curious. He is asking questions about it all the time, and he won't be satisfied. He keeps asking for the other nurse, who is out taking her walk, as I tell him."
At this point Dudley's voice was heard from the bed. "Who's that at the door? Who is it?"
Max, after a moment's hesitation, during which the nurse assumed an air of washing her hands of the whole matter, answered:
"Me, old chap—Max. How are you?"
Dudley sprang up in bed. The nurse folded her arms and frowned.
"Come in, oh, come in, just one moment! I'll be quiet, nurse, quite quiet. But I must see him—I must see somebody."
Max threw an imploring glance at the nurse, who refused to look at him. Then he went in.
"Only a minute—I won't stay a minute."