"I saw him watching you once—when you were asleep," said Doris. "He seemed terribly anxious. I was afraid of him—and I felt sorry for him—"
Pete lay back and stared at the opposite wall. "He sure was game!" he murmured. "And he was my friend."
Pete turned his head quickly as Doris stepped toward the door. "Could you git me some of them papers—about The Spider?"
"Yes," she answered hesitatingly, as she left the room.
Pete closed his eyes. He could see The Spider standing beside his bed supported by two internes, dying on his feet, fighting for breath as he told Pete to "see that party—in the letter"—and "that some one had trailed him too close." And "close the cases," The Spider had said. The game was ended.
When Doris came in again Pete was asleep. She laid a folded newspaper by his pillow, gazed at him for a moment, and stepped softly from the room.
At noon she brought his luncheon. When she came back for the tray she noticed that he had not eaten, nor would he talk while she was there. But that evening he seemed more like himself. After she had taken his temperature he jokingly asked her if he bit that there little glass dingus in two what would happen?"
"Why, I'd have to buy a new one," she replied, smiling.
Pete's face expressed surprise. "Say!" he queried, sitting up, "did The Spider pay you for bein' my private nurse, too?"
"He must have made some arrangement with Dr. Andover. He put me in charge of your case."