“Be calm, my lad,” said the doctor kindly, placing a hand on the excited boy’s shoulder. “Your father has suffered nothing worse than an attack of vertigo brought on by overwork and study. A few weeks’ quiet will make him perfectly well again, and then I shall forbid him overexerting himself.”
“Can I see him?” asked Jack eagerly.
“Not just now. He is still only partly conscious. From what I can gather, the servant who answered the bell found him lying on the floor of the library unconscious. He was carried to his room, and I was sent for at once.”
“When can I see him?” demanded Jack anxiously, and Tom, who had now arrived, repeated the question.
“Probably this evening, when I shall pay another visit.”
“He is only suffering from vertigo, doctor?” asked Jack, with curious insistence, “not from any—any injuries?”
“Injuries? I don’t understand you.”
“He had not been in any struggle, then? That’s what I mean.”
“Of course not. What an odd question!” The doctor looked at Jack quizzically. “I shall have you under my care next,” he said jokingly.