There was a pause, which seemed interminable to the Young Doctor, who was listening for the heavy footstep of Joel Mazarine outside the house; and then at last in agitation Louise said to him:
“Will he get well? Rada told me he was shot saving Mr. Mazarine. Will he get well?”
“Yes, he will get well, and quickly, if—”
He broke off, for there was the thud of a heavy footstep for which he had been listening. Joel Mazarine was returning.
“Won’t they let me help nurse him?” she whispered.
The Young Doctor shook his head in negation. “His mother will be here to-morrow,” he said quickly. “Be wise, my child.”
“You understand?” she whispered wistfully.
“I have no understanding. Go to bed,” he answered sharply. “Shut the door at once.”
When old Joel Mazarine’s footsteps were heard upon the staircase again, Orlando was lying with half-closed eyes, watching, yet too weak to speak; and the Young Doctor was giving directions to Rada and Li Choo for the night-watch in Orlando’s room. When Mazarine entered, the Young Doctor gave him a casual nod and went on with his directions. When he had finished, Rada said in her broken English, with an accent half-Indian, half-French:
“His mother you send for—yes? She come queeck. Some one must take care him when for me get breakfus and Li Choo do chores.”