But it was Camilla who interposed. She stepped between the two men and took Jeff Ly the arm. "Cort can't go back without you, Jeff," she said passionately. "Don't you see that? He can't. You've got to go. If your father died to-night you'd never forgive yourself. He may have done you a wrong, but God knows he's trying to right it now. You've got to let him." Cortland watched them a moment, then suddenly straightened and glanced at his watch.
"I can't stay here any longer," he said. "I've got to go back to him. There is much to be done, and I'm the only one to do it. This is my last plea—not that of a dying man's son for his father, but of a brother to a brother for the father of both. Come back with me—Jeff. Not for his sake—but for your own. It is your own blood that is calling you—pitifully—you can't refuse."
Jeff struggled heavily to his feet and passed his hands across his eyes, and then, with a sudden sharp intake of his breath, he turned to Cortland, his lips trembling.
"I'll go," he said hoarsely. "If he wants me, I'll go, Cort. Something is drawing me—something inside of me that awoke when you told me what had happened. I've been fighting against it, the habit of thirty years was fighting it, but I've got to go. I'd be cursed if I didn't. You're sure he really wants me, Cort?"
CHAPTER XXVII
GENERAL BENT
The room at the hotel into which Cortland showed them was a part of General Bent's own suite. Curtis Janney and a doctor consulted near the window, and a nurse from the hospital, in her white linen uniform and cap, hovered near. Jeff's questioning gaze sought the crack of the door of the darkened room adjoining.
"I think you may go in, Mr. Bent," said the doctor to Cortland. "He's conscious at longer intervals now. It looks very much more hopeful, sir. He still asks for Mr. Wray."
Cortland followed the doctor into the sick room, while Janney joined Jeff and Camilla and waited.
"Will he—get over it, Mr. Janney?" Camilla asked softly.