“I must get away to-morrow.... I must get away to-morrow!” he kept on repeating.
By the end of the week the smell of food held no temptations for Fernet. Minetti stopped cooking. And when a glass of water was drawn from the faucet Fernet had difficulty in forcing his vision to answer the strain of a searching gaze.
“When my sight fails me,” Fernet thought, dimly, “I shall either die of thirst or take the consequences.”
When the doctor finally came again Fernet closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.
“He seems thinner,” remarked the doctor, as if he had made an important discovery.
“Well, to tell the truth,” replied the hunchback, “he has lost his appetite. I have fed him milk and eggs, but—”
“There is nothing to do but be patient,” said the doctor. “Medicine will do him no good. Just rest and food. Even a little starvation will not hurt him. People eat too much, anyway.”
At this Fernet opened his eyes and broke into a laugh that startled even Minetti. The doctor looked offended.
“Well, he is in your hands,” the old fraud said, pompously, to the hunchback. “Just keep up the good work—”