“Certainly. I agree with you. Sivertsen thought this would be your wish.”
“I hope you are not leaving?”
“Not necessarily at once. My holiday is longer than usual, owing to its being a recruiting after illness, and I can remain another week.”
Wareham expressed his pleasure. The doctor took up an old illustrated paper.
“If it had been practicable for him to have gone straight to England from Molde,” he went on, “it would doubtless have been better for his family, but it is unlikely that it would have made any difference in the disease.”
“I suppose no steamer was available?”
“No. Though Lord Milborough’s Yacht arrived just after we had got him on board, and followed us here.”
“Lord Milborough! Is he in Bergen?”
“You may see his yacht if you go round to the harbour. I rather think that Mrs Martyn and Miss Dalrymple may be on board.”
This struck strangely on Wareham’s ears, though, after all, there was nothing very strange about it. He asked if he might go up to Hugh, and was advised not. Quiet was, of all things, necessary, for the temperature rose as the day went on, and with increase of fever came delirium.