CHAPTER XXXII
IDA INTERFERES
On his return to Santa Brigida, Dick went to see a Spanish oculist, who took a more hopeful view than the Kingston doctor, although he admitted that there was some danger of the injury proving permanent. Dick felt slightly comforted when he learned that the oculist was a clever man who had been well known in Barcelona until he was forced to leave the city after taking part in some revolutionary plot. He was, however, unable to resume his work, and while he brooded over his misfortunes a touch of the malaria he had already suffered from hindered his recovery. One of the effects of malaria is a feeling of black depression. He was feebly struggling against the weakness and despondence when Fuller arrived and soon afterwards came to see him. Dick, who was sitting in the darkest corner of the veranda, had got rid of his bandage; but an ugly, livid mark crossed his forehead to the shade above his eyes and his face looked worn. Fuller talked about the dam for a time, and then stopped and looked hard at his silent companion.
“I imagined all this would interest you, but you don’t say much.”
“No,” said Dick. “You see, it’s galling to listen to plans you can’t take part in. In fact, I feel I ought to resign.”
“Why?”
“It looks as if it may be a long time before I can get to work and I may never be of much use again.”
“Well, I suppose it’s natural that you should feel badly humped, but you don’t know that you’ll lose your eye, and if you did, you’d do your work all right with the other. However, since you started the subject, I’ve something to say about our contract. If the new scheme we’re negotiating goes through, as I think it will, I’ll have to increase my staff. Should I do so, you’ll get a move up and, of course, better pay for a more important job.”
Dick, who was touched by this mark of confidence, thanked him awkwardly, and although he felt bound to object that he might be unable to fill the new post, Fuller stopped him.