“I think I’ll look in now. Invalids are likely to be awake at this hour of the day.”
“Yes, you must be eager!” dabbed Kate.
The nurse was no obstacle. She looked up toward the figure in the door, said: “A young lady to see you, Mr. Chester,” and withdrew. Eleanor stood alone by the foot of the bed, looking into the eyes of her problem.
He made no motion. He did not even put out his hand. He regarded her with the frown which usually broke into a smile. Now, it continued a frown.
“Well, things happened, didn’t they?” he said. His voice burst out of him with almost its normal force.
“Yes, Bertram. A great deal.”
“And I thank you. It was bully work. I don’t see how you stood it, holding me up the way you did—it ought to have killed off a man, let alone a girl. Didn’t hurt you anywhere, did it?”
“No—who told you?” Her voice was hard and constrained.
Now Bertram smiled. It was different, this smile, from the old illumination of his features. She could not tell, in the moment she had to think, whether it was his illness 278 that changed it so, or whether it really held a bitterness which, superficially, she read into it.
“That’s the answer,” he said enigmatically. “You didn’t know I was onto everything, did you? I never went out but once—just after the crash when the car turned over. I began to know things while they were carrying me up the bank. From that time, I was just like a man with his wind knocked out. It didn’t hurt much, but I couldn’t move a finger or a toe. I didn’t want to move if I could. I was too busy just keeping alive. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I heard everything. You just bet I heard everything!”