"Yes, I am tired," said the Baronet; "I'll rest till Strangways comes."
And he closed his eyes, and was quiet for a time. And Dives, leaning back in his chair at the bedside, felt better assured of Jekyl's recovery, and his thoughts began to return to their wonted channel, and he entertained himself with listlessly reading and half understanding a tedious sculling match in a very old copy of "Bell's Life," which happened to lie near him.
A tap at the outer door called up Dives from Sandy Dick's sweep round a corner, and Jekyl said—
"Tell him to come in—and stay—you're not to say I'm hurt—do you mind?"
"My dear Jekyl, I—I shan't say anything. There he's knocking again."
"Well, tell him—come in!"
"Come in!" echoed Dives, in a louder key.
And Monsieur Varbarriere entered with that mysterious countenance and cautious shuffle with which men enter a sick-chamber.
"Very sorry to hear you've been suffering," began Varbarriere, in a low tone.
"Thanks—you're very good, I'm sure," said Sir Jekyl, with a faint smile. "I—I wished very much to see you. I expect to be better very soon, and I thought I might have a word, as you are so good, in the meantime."