"No I have been changing it—improving it."
The Dane shook his head again. "There's a pain in my throat," he said; "it stings—it burns!"
"Patience—patience. It will pass away directly, and you will lie down again and fall asleep comfortably."
Oxbye sank back upon the sofa. His eyes closed. Then he opened them again, looking about him strangely, as one who is suffering some new experience. Again he shook his head, again he closed his eyes, and he opened them no more. He was asleep.
The doctor stood at his head watching gravely. Lord Harry, in his chair, leaned forward, also watching, but with white face and trembling hands.
As they watched, the man's head rolled a little to the side, turning his face more towards the room. Then a curious and terrifying thing happened. His mouth began slowly to fall open.
"Is he—is he—is he fainting?" Lord Harry whispered.
"No; he is asleep. Did you never see a man sleep with his mouth wide open?"
They were silent for a space.
The doctor broke the silence.