“O, I know, Nurse, but I won’t excite him—I’ll go a long way toward curing him. You can trust me for that.”
Mr. Hertzog pushed himself into the sick-room and walked toward the bed, waving a telegram in his hand. Mr. Constable smiled feebly at his visitor.
“Now, old man, I’m the doctor to-day. Are you up to taking my prescription in the form of a story?”
The invalid nodded.
“Even if it’s about the—the Horton case?”
Mr. Constable nodded positively.
“Well, you remember, just before you were taken sick, I told you I thought they’d got a pretty good case——”
“Yes, yes.” The whisper was eager, expectant.
—“And the more I examined it the more positive I became that there was no chance for attacking it on the merits——”
The invalid lay back on the pillows and smiled foolishly at the man beside him.