"Then—what the devil are we to do?"
"Wait a little longer," said the doctor.
The woman in her hiding-place hardly dared to breathe.
"What?" asked Lord Harry. "You mean that the man, after all—"
"Wait a little longer," the doctor repeated quietly.
"Tell me"—Lord Harry bent over the sick man eagerly—"you think——"
"Look here," the doctor said. "Which of us two has had a medical education—you, or I?"
"You, of course."
"Yes; I, of course. Then I tell you, as a medical man, that appearances are sometimes deceptive. This man, for instance—he looks better; he thinks he is recovering; he feels stronger. You observe that he is fatter in the face. His nurse, Fanny Mere, went away with the knowledge that he was much better, and the conviction that he was about to leave the house as much recovered as such a patient with such a disorder can expect."
"Well?"