"This is the other gentleman."
The sister opened the door for Ralph to enter.
"He is quiet now," she said, in a soft, compassionate tone.
Ralph went into the room. Percy lay in the bed, with his head surrounded with ice. His face was flushed, and his eyes wild. He was moving uneasily about, talking to himself.
"It is that schoolmaster who is at the bottom of it," he muttered. "He was a traitor, and I thought we hung him, but I suppose we didn't. Perhaps he got down, after we had gone off. If not, how could he have betrayed us again?
"I have heard of liquid fire, but that was liquid ice. It got into my veins, somehow, instead of blood. I tell you, Ralph, it's no good. I can't stand it any longer; but I will pay off that schoolmaster, first. Let me get at him," and he made an effort to rise.
The sister tried to restrain him, but so violent were his efforts to rise that Ralph--who was looking on, with tears streaming down his cheeks--was obliged to assist to hold him down. When he became quiet, the sister forced some medicine between his lips--Ralph holding up his head.
"Shall I speak to him?" Ralph asked. "He may know my voice."
"Better not, sir," the nurse said, "it would probably only set him off again."
"What does the doctor say about him?" Ralph asked.