“She sent me,” he whispered eagerly. “She could not sleep. She must know to-night if you live. I hid myself in your garden, and I wait and I wait. But you do not come, and I despair. And then,” cried the old man joyfully, “the miracle! Now my mistress can sleep in peace.”
Roddy lay so still that had it not been for his sharp breathing Pedro would have thought he had again fainted. With a sudden, sharp cry Roddy opened his eyes. His clenched fists beat feebly on the arms of the chair.
“It’s a lie!” he shouted fiercely, “it’s a lie!” His eyes were wide and staring. Vicenti, returning hastily, looked into them and, with an exclamation, drew back.
“The fever!” he said.
Roddy was shouting wildly.
“It’s a lie!” he cried. “She did not send you. She does not care whether I drown or live. She loves Pino Vega. She will marry——”
Peter, with his arm around Roddy’s neck, choked him, and held his hand over his mouth.
“Be still,” he entreated, “for God’s sake, be still!” He looked fearfully at Vicenti, but the young doctor, though his eyes were wide with astonishment, made an impatient gesture.
“Help me get him to bed,” Vicenti commanded briskly. “Take his other arm.”
With the strength the fever lent him, Roddy hurled the two men from him.