That was a bad night in the sick-room. The fever rose higher and higher. Roger tossed and moaned ceaselessly all night, and for the first time wandered in his talk. Armstrong, who looked in once or twice, durst not let himself be seen by the patient for fear of adding to his excitement. A midnight messenger was despatched for Dr Brandram, who came, looking very grave, and remained at the bedside all night. Captain Oliphant was indefatigable in his inquiries and attentions. He denied himself his natural sleep in order to linger near the dear one’s door and feed on the crumbs of information which from time to time came out. He insisted on lending Dr Brandram a pair of his own slippers, and besought Armstrong, with his bad arm, to take care of himself and go shares in his brandy and water.
Finally, when the doctor peremptorily ordered every one to bed, he retired in a chastened mood to his own room, where he packed his trunk and smoked his cigar thoughtfully till daylight struggled through the windows.
Then he took a brief nap in his arm-chair, and was astir in time to meet the doctor as he descended to the hall.
“What news?” he asked.
“Don’t ask me,” said the doctor; “my calculations are completely upset. Something has excited him. Whom did he see yesterday?”
“Only my daughter and his mother, and, for a short time, myself.”
“Was he at all disturbed while you were there?”
“On the contrary, he was drowsy when I entered and drowsy when I left. He may possibly have caught sight of Mr Armstrong when he looked in.”
“He should not have come near him in his present state. Anything that reminds him of the accident is bad for him.”
“Dear, dear, what a pity! No doubt the boy caught sight of him. Tell me, doctor—may I venture up to town for a day or two on important business? If you thought I should stay—”