"Oh, yes," said Seaforth with a curious expression. "He is a very good fellow, and has distinguished himself several times. Somebody left him a good deal of money lately."
Alton seemed to sigh. "Well," he said slowly, "he is to be envied.
They wouldn't have much use for him in your navy if he was a cripple."
The party was breaking up before Alton had speech with Alice Deringham again, and as it happened the girl had just left Commander Thorne. Alton spoke with an effort as one going through a task. "I never thanked you yet for what you did for me," he said.
The girl smiled, though her pulses were throbbing painfully. "It was very little."
"No," said Alton gravely. "I think I should not have been here now if you had not taken care of me, and I'm very grateful. Still"—and he glanced down with a wry smile at his knee, which was bent a trifle—"it was unfortunate you and the doctor did not get me earlier. There are disadvantages in being—all one's life—a cripple."
As fate would have it they were interrupted before Miss Deringham could answer, and Alton limped down the stairway very grim in face, while Thorne appeared sympathetic when he overtook him. "That wound of yours is troubling you?" he said.
"Yes," said Alton dryly; "I'm afraid it will. Now I was a trifle confused when you helped me. Did I tell you how I got it?"
Thorne remembering Seaforth's story answered indifferently, "I concluded it was an axe-cut."
He passed on, but Alton had quick perceptions, and made a little gesture of contentment. "He is almost good enough, anyway," he said wearily.
When all the guests had gone Deringham came upon his daughter alone.
"I noticed Mr. Alton was not effusive," he said.