"Puir fellow, he looks bad," said Mackenzie dispassionately.
"Yes, it's a case for the hospital. You did quite right to fetch me, Mackenzie. I'll send a couple of orderlies with a stretcher. When's your best time? I should like you to be here to superintend."
"I'll no' be on duty the morn, but I'll be back again after dinner, sir."
"Very well, I'll have them here at one o'clock. Leave the bed as it is, and tell Barnes to keep an eye on him in the meanwhile."
"Verra good, sir."
Scott was going out, without another glance at the prisoner, when Mackenzie touched his arm. "He's lookin' at you, sir," he whispered. Scott turned. The line of white under the eyelids had widened slightly; the gleam of the pupil was visible. While he watched, the lips unclosed, and the dead (indeed it had that effect) spoke:
"I—won't—go to hospital."
"You'll be better off there, Gardiner," said Scott very gently. "I'll give you something to send you to sleep."
The eyes opened a little further. After a moment the prone figure heaved itself up and struggled into a sitting position against the wall.
"I won't go to hospital, and I won't take your bloody stuff, you —— —— ——."