"This is Mr. Bristow's room," she said in a low tone. "Are you Mr. Braceway?"
"Yes."
"Come in, then, please." She stepped back and held open the door. "Mr. Bristow's still very weak, but he told me to let you in. He said he must see you as soon as you arrived."
Braceway saw that there was no bed in the room, and asked where the sick man was. The nurse pointed to a closed door leading into the adjoining room.
"What's the matter with him?" he asked. "By George! He hasn't had a hemorrhage, has he?"
"Yes, sir. That's exactly what he has had. The doctor says all he needs now is rest. He doesn't think there's any real danger. Will you go in to see him?"
She quietly opened the door to the sickroom. Braceway went in on tiptoes, but Bristow stirred and turned toward him when the nurse put up the window shade.
"You'll have to lie still, Mr. Bristow," she cautioned on her way out. "It's so important to keep these ice-packs in place."
"Thanks, Miss Martin; I shall get on," he answered in a voice so weak that it startled Braceway.
"I don't think you'd better talk," said his visitor. "Really, I wouldn't."