"Yes; I couldn't keep it from her. How did it happen?"
Dick told the story briefly, and then, promising to bring Jim home in the morning, he returned to the room. An hour later the doctor came to have another look at his patient, who was still sleeping nicely.
"Hum!" said he, rubbing his hands, "one's better than none, though it is a pity the other slipped past us."
"Is Braithwaite dead, sir?" asked Dick, sinking his voice to a whisper lest Jim should hear him.
"Yes, my boy, I'm sorry to say he is. We've tried hard to restore breathing, but it's no good. How came he to get into the water?"
Dick told him.
"And this lad jumped in to save him? Well, that was very plucky, but none of you had any business there at all."
"No, sir," replied Dick humbly, "but I only thought to have a joke."
"Well, well, I don't suppose you're more to blame than the rest!" exclaimed the doctor; and then, after making a note of Jim's name and address, he said he would call at his house in a day or two.
That was a wretched night for Dick. The kind-hearted landlady brought him in a good supper, and a servant made him a comfortable bed on the floor, but he could not sleep.