“He has not been fortunate in his friends,” he said, looking straight into his eyes.
“A man ought to know himself when the pace is too swift,” said The Duke, a little more quickly than was his wont.
“You might have done anything with him. Why didn't you help him?” Moore's tones were stern and very steady, and he never moved his eyes from the other man's face, but the only reply he got was a shrug of the shoulders.
When the gray of the morning was coming in at the window The Duke rose up, gave himself, a little shake, and said:
“I am not of any service here. I shall come back in the evening.”
He went and stood for a few moments looking down upon the hot, fevered face; then, turning to me, he asked:
“What do you think?”
“Can't say! The bromide is holding him down just now. His blood is bad for that wound.”
“Can I get anything?” I knew him well enough to recognize the anxiety under his indifferent manner.
“The Fort doctor ought to be got.”