"Not very well, sir; it's a job to get him to take it," said Jones.
"We've had four days at it with a knife," said the whisper, "and by thunder we see light now. We'll get through, Phillimore. How do you stand?"
"Sleep at all well?" I inquired.
"I couldn't say, sir," said Jones, "just lays there like a log."
"Attack may be made at any moment," I whispered back. "There are some ten of us holding the state-rooms and the ladies."
He gripped my hand, and I rose to my feet. "Well, I'm afraid I can't do any more," I said. "He's going on pretty much the same. Good-bye, men."
They returned the farewell, and I made my way to the ladder and ascended. The guard with emotionless face helped me out, and the first man my eyes fell on was Holgate, standing with his hands in his pockets, looking at me. He whistled as he eyed me, and his teeth showed in his grin.
"For sheer arduous pursuit of duty I don't know your equal, doctor," said he. "You just hang on to work as if you loved it. How's the patient?"
I told him that it was a question of time, but that there was no reason why Legrand should not get over the injury to his spine—"not that he will ever be the same man again," I added.
"No," said he reflectively, "he won't. And he wants time, does he? Well, perhaps we can give him time—though, mark you, my lad, I don't promise it," he said, with his ugly fang showing in a smile.