ere
watching. Was he coming out? No, he stands quite still, runs his eye
over the people waiting quietly in the road, and beckons to one of the
smaller boys. The child, with upturned face, stands listening to what he
has to say, then starts on a run for the village. He is stopped, pulled
about, questioned, and allowed to run on. Many rush forth to meet him.
He is panting, but gleeful. Mr. Brotherson has waked up conscious, and
the doctor says, HE WILL LIVE.

XXV. THE OVAL HUT

That night Dr. Fenton had a visitor. We know that visitor and we almost
know what his questions were, if not the answers of the good doctor.
Nevertheless, it may be better to listen to a part at least of their
conversation. Sweetwater, who knew when to be frank and open, as well as
when to be reserved and ambiguous, made no effort to disguise the nature
of his business or his chief cause of interest in Oswald Brotherson. The
eye which met his was too penetrating not to detect the smallest attempt
at subterfuge; besides, Sweetwater had no need to hide his errand;
it was one of peace, and it threatened nobody--"the more's the pity,"
thought he in uneasy comment to himself, as he realised the hopelessness
of the whole situation.

His first word, therefore, was a plain announcement.

"Dr. Fenton, my name is Sweetwater. I am from New York, and represent
for the nonce, Mr. Challoner, whose name I have simply to mention, for
you to understand that my business is with Mr. Brotherson whom I am
sorry to find seriously, if not dangerously, ill. Will you tell me how
long you think it will be before I can have a talk with him on a subject
which I will not disguise from you may prove a very exciting one?"

"Weeks, weeks," returned the doctor. "Mr. Brotherson has been a very
sick man and the only hope I have of his recovery is the fact that he
is ignorant of his trouble or that he has any cause for doubt or dread.
Were this happy condition of things to be disturbed,--were the faintest
rumour of sorrow or disaster to reach him in his present weakened state,
I should fear a relapse, with all its attendant dangers. What then, if
any intimation should be given him of the horrible tragedy suggested
by the name you have mentioned? The man would die before your eyes. Mr.
Challoner's business will have to wait."

"That I see; but if I knew when I might speak--"

"I can give you no date. Typhoid is a treacherous complaint; he has the
best of nurses and th