Then the doctor spoke in his low, deep tones.
“There must be no emotion, no outburst of excitement, Hal. Our work is all to do yet, and our lives depend upon our being calm. Just a word or two in the lowest tone.”
“Morris, old friend,” was whispered, in faltering accents, and the thin, careworn object of their mission gazed up wildly in his old school-fellow’s eyes. “You have dared to come here—for me?”
“Yes, and please God we will take you back in safety.”
“We?” whispered the prisoner. “Who is that brave young black who ventured so much?”
“Your brother Frank,” said the doctor slowly, and he laid his hand quickly upon his new patient’s burning brow, for as he anticipated, there was a violent start.
But the prisoner with a great effort mastered his emotion, and said softly—
“I did not know him. And you two have risked your lives like this?”
“We and Fred Landon,” said the doctor softly.
“Fred Landon!” cried the patient, with a hysterical gasp. “Dear old Fred! How like him!—Tell him—”