"Yes."
"Weeks?"
"With care."
"Months?"
"The best thing you can do now is to go to bed. I'll see the room got ready. You feel very weak, weaker even than when you came in here."
"I feel I cannot walk."
"The excitement has kept you up so far. You are now suffering from reaction. After you have rested a while you will be better."
"Very good. Shaw, will you send for your solicitor, I want to make my will."
The doctor left the surgery for a few minutes to give the necessary orders about the room for Leigh and to send for the solicitor. Half an hour ago he had felt very hungry, and when the clockmaker knocked he had been thinking of nothing but his dinner. His dinner still lay untasted. He had forgotten all about it. He was the most kind-hearted of men, and the sight of Leigh in his present condition, and the fatal story he had heard through the stethoscope had filled him with pity and solicitude.
"The room will be ready in a few minutes," he said, in a cheerful voice and with an encouraging smile, when he again came into the surgery. "We shall try to make you as comfortable as ever we can. I am sorry for your sake I haven't a wife to look after you."