"Stewart has returned," he said, quietly, "but he's been badly hurt and he wants you. If you feel strong enough—"
Trevelyan sprang to the floor. He was trembling with excitement and the weakness left by the fever.
"Thank God, he's safe—" and then as he looked more closely in the assistant's face, "He isn't hurt seriously—" his voice trailed off.
The assistant got Trevelyan's slippers and threw a blanket over him and drew his arm through his, giving him support. It seemed strange to be supporting Trevelyan.
"I'm afraid he is," he said. "He did the job all right and reported like the soldier he is. McCann's game, too, and not hurt. Stewart—" The assistant was killing time.
Trevelyan wiped the moisture from his face.
"Yes?"
Vaughan looked straight ahead of him, to avoid meeting Trevelyan's eyes.
"Mackenzie is with him," he said, slowly. "He's doing everything on earth, but the wound's in the back, and there—isn't the ghost of a chance—and, he's sent for you."
VIII.