“Five hundred pounds. A very heavy sum. I must not blame him, poor fellow, but I should have thought it a mistake to have so large a sum in the house.”
At last the doctor descended looking very grave.
“Ah, Knatchbull,” said Vine in an excited whisper as he rose and caught the doctor’s hand; “how is he?”
The doctor shook his head.
“Has he recovered his senses?”
“No.”
“Nor said a word about who his assailants were?”
“No, sir, nor is he likely to for some time to come.”
Harry Vine sat with his eyes closed, not daring to look; and, as the doctor’s words came, a terrible weight of dread seemed to be lifted from his brain.
“I may go up now, may I not?”