Mr. Speedwell heard the question and replied to it briefly from the top of the pavilion steps.
“For the present—yes,” he said.
The captain thanked him, and disappeared.
They entered the pavilion. The necessary restorative measures were taken under Mr. Speedwell’s directions. There the conquered athlete lay: outwardly an inert mass of strength, formidable to look at, even in its fall; inwardly, a weaker creature, in all that constitutes vital force, than the fly that buzzed on the window-pane. By slow degrees the fluttering life came back. The sun was setting; and the evening light was beginning to fail. Mr. Speedwell beckoned to Perry to follow him into an unoccupied corner of the room.
“In half an hour or less he will be well enough to be taken home. Where are his friends? He has a brother—hasn’t he?”
“His brother’s in Scotland, Sir.”
“His father?”
Perry scratched his head. “From all I hear, Sir, he and his father don’t agree.”
Mr. Speedwell applied to Sir Patrick.
“Do you know any thing of his family affairs?”