“Mr. Bridge [she did not know his initials] is dangerously sick here in the hospital. He has been delirious ever since he was brought here, and has frequently called for you, sometimes as if he wanted to tell you something, and at others as if he desired your protection. I write in the hope that you will be able either to come or to suggest some clew to his delusions which may enable us to remove them.”
It was mailed that evening and reached Jim about noon Saturday. Not half an hour afterward she received a telegram which took a load off her mind:—
Shall reach Tillman at eight this evening and will drive direct to
the hospital. Please arrange it so I can see him immediately after I
arrive there.
She was in the sick room watching, when Jim was shown in. He walked directly to the bed and stood looking down at Bridge for a moment, and then spoke to Grace Burns.
“Has he any chance? What is it?”
“It's scarlet fever. The doctor doesn't seem to think there's much hope.”
“Poor devil,” said Jim under his breath.
The nurse suddenly bent forward over the sick man, and motioned Jim to silence. Bridge's lips were moving and he seemed to be struggling to speak.
“Yes, he's here,” said the nurse in answer to the half-heard question.
Jim dropped on one knee beside the bed. “Yes, I'm Jim Weeks,” he said. “Do you want to tell me anything?”