I hesitated. Here was a complication, perhaps, for I had hoped he would not put this question yet, but I could not draw back now, or what I had meant should result in good to two persons, at least, might cause further misunderstanding and render the last state worse than the first. So, after a moment, I answered:
'Yes. It named the man.'
'Who? tell me!' This was not a request, it was a command; and he was off his pillow, resting upon his elbow, and eyeing me keenly.
I got up and bent over him.
'I'll tell you fast enough,' I said grimly. 'And it's evident you are not a dead man yet; but get back on your pillow—he's here in this very White City, and if you want to take care of your own you'd better not undo the doctor's good work. Lie down!'
He dropped back weakly, and the fire died out of his face; he was deathly pale, but his white lips framed the word, 'Who?'
'Monsieur Maurice Voisin,' I said.
'The dastard!'
'Quite so,' I agreed. 'Did you know he was here?'
'Yes.' He lay silent a moment, then: 'I see! He saw it was—he——'