Oddly enough, the knowledge again affected the doctor so that he wiped his brow and hands carefully, and then sat gazing thoughtfully before him as he sipped and smoked and seemed to settle down into a calm, restful state, which at times approached drowsiness.
Upon these occasions he rose and softly paced the room, stopping to listen to his patient’s breathing, and twice over feeling his pulse.
“Could not be going on better,” he muttered.
Finally, during one of his turns up and down, he heard a step outside the door, followed by a light tap, and Claude entered.
The doctor started, and looked at her wildly.
“Why have you come down?” he said.
“Come down? How is he? I overslept myself, and it is half-past two.”
“Is it so late as that?”
“Doctor Asher!” cried Claude excitedly, as she caught him by the arm, “you are keeping something back.”
Her words seemed to smite him, and he tried vainly to speak. It was as if he had suddenly been startled by some terrible shock, and he stared at Claude with his jaw slightly fallen.