“No; I would wait the result of the crisis,” Annette answered, so decidedly that he hesitated and gave in.
About sunset he came again, but he found no change in his patient, who still remained in the stupor that had fallen on her at noonday.
The trained nurse had gone out for a breath of fresh air, and Annette sat by the window, watching the sunset lights upon the sea, her eyes sad and her bright face pale with anxiety.
Doctor Burns sat down at her side, and whispered abruptly:
“I have news for you. Royall Sherwood’s Fifth Avenue residence was burned to the ground just before daylight this morning.”
Annette gave a wild start of surprise, and he added:
“I read it a while ago in an evening paper—a telegraphic item.”
Annette thought with horror of the helpless paralytic.
A lump rose up in her throat, almost choking her, as she gasped:
“Don’t tell me that Mr. Sherwood——”