“There is, unhappily, no one in authority over him,” replied Margaret, “but we'll keep him ill as long as we can. Dr. Cotton,” and here she smilingly appealed to the newly appointed assistant, “you will help, I am sure.”
“Most certainly. Now we have him down we shall combine to keep him there.”
“Yes, a month at the very least,” cried Dick.
But Barney laughed their plans to scorn. In two days he promised them he would be fit again.
“It is the Superintendent of the Hospital against the Medical Superintendent of the Crow's Nest Railway,” said Dr. Cotton, “and I think in this case I'll back the former, from what I've seen.”
“Ah,” replied Margaret, “that is because you haven't known your patient long, Doctor. When he speaks the word of command we simply obey.”
And that is just what happened. On the afternoon of the second day, when both the doctor and Dick had gone off to their work and Barney had apparently fallen into a quiet sleep, the silence that reigned over the flat was broken by Ben Fallows coming up the stair with a telegram in his hand.
“It's fer the doctor,” said Ben, “an' the messenger said as 'ow 'Mexico' had got shot and—”
Swiftly Margaret closed the door of the room in which Barney lay. Ben's voice, though not loud, was of a peculiarly penetrating quality. Two words had caught Barney's ear, “Mexico” and “shot.”
“Let me have the wire,” he said quietly, when Margaret came in.