He pointed as he spoke to a withered bud which was fastened to his coat.
“But—but—that young man had lost his hand; the nurse told us so,” exclaimed Mrs Drew, with a puzzled look.
Miles silently pointed to the handless arm which hung at his left side.
Marion had turned towards him with a half-frightened look. She now leaned back in her chair and covered her face with both hands.
“Mr Miles,” said the wise old lady, with a sudden and violent change of subject, “your friends Armstrong and Molloy are in the Institute at this moment waiting for you!”
Our hero needed no second hint. Next minute he dashed into the entrance hall, with wonderful vigour for an invalid, for he heard the bass voice of Molloy exclaiming—
“I don’t care a button, leave or no leave, I’ll make my way to John Mi— Hallo!”
The “Hallo!” was caused by his being rushed into by the impetuous Miles with such force that they both staggered.
“Why, John, you’re like the ram of an iron-clad! Is it really yourself? Give us your flipper, my boy!”
But the flipper was already in that of Willie Armstrong, while the others crowded round him with congratulations.