“Bad, very bad I am afraid. He had a heart attack, quite suddenly, after lunch, and I thought he had died, but he rallied. Of course, I could not leave him, and wired for you.”
Jack Sefton went straight in to his father. There had never been much love lost between these two, for the doctor had been engrossed in some research work, and did not seem to understand his son, or take any interest in his career except to urge him on to get qualified. Perhaps he knew his own days were numbered.
He was propped up with pillows and looked ghastly, with a blue tinge about his face.
“I can’t talk much, Jack,” he said slowly “and I know the next attack will be the end, but I must have a word with you alone. I am afraid I have some bad news to tell you, the fact is I have neglected my business so much lately that the practice has gone to pieces. And I have been so careless in collecting accounts that I have had to dip into the little sum I had stored away for you and Ena. I am afraid there is little left.” He sighed.
A feeling of bitterness came to Jack. “Do you mean that we shall be penniless,” then he realised what this meant “that I shall have to leave the hospital without qualifying.”
“I am afraid so, my boy, unless you can borrow …”
“Borrow, who could I borrow from? Why could you not have told me before?”
“I was afraid to, and I had hoped to have made some money.”
Jack turned away with a movement of impatience.
“Don’t be angry with me now, Jack. I shall not be here much longer, and I have tried my best. And I have something I must tell you before I go, come here. It is less strain for me to whisper.”