“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?”
“No, sir, certainly not,” said the doctor.
“But we are such old friends; we were boys together, Knatchbull.”
“If you were twin-brothers, sir, I should say the same. Why, do you know, sir, I’ve forbidden Mrs Van Heldre to go into the room. She could not control her feelings, and absolute silence is indispensable.”
“Then he is alone?”
“No, no; his daughter is with him. By George! Mr Vine, if I had been a married man instead of a surly old soured bachelor, I should be so proud and jealous of such a girl as Miss Van Heldre that I should have been ready to poison the first young fellow who dared to think about her.”
“We are all very proud of Madelaine,” said Vine slowly. “I love her as if she were my own child.”