l. No
bones broken."

"Ah! yes," he replied, slowly raising a hand to his brow. "Ah! yes--now
I remember. That wagon--right across the road--and no light upon it!
Yes--I--I remember!"

"Don't bother. That's enough now. Just go to sleep again, my dear
fellow," said Sir Evered, soothingly, placing his hand upon his
patient's brow. "Don't try and think. Just rest for the present."

And thus advised, his lordship closed his eyes wearily, and was soon
asleep.

"Excellent," declared Sir Evered, much gratified when outside the room
with the others, leaving Jean alone with the sleeper. "He'll recover--no
doubt he will."

And five minutes later he was in the library, speaking over the
telephone to the Prime Minister at Downing Street, while that same
evening the papers gave the welcome news to the world that there was
every hope of the Foreign Minister's restoration to health.

The three medical men had strapped up the injured shoulder and applied
various remedies, therefore the patient that night was in no pain,
though Sister Gertrude took Jean's place at ten o'clock and sat by his
bedside all night, receiving hourly visits from the doctors.

Bracondale Park was a house of breathless anxiety through the days which
followed. Sir Evered, though his presence was required hourly in
London--as is the presence of such a great surgeon--remained at the
bedside of his friend. They had been at Cambridge together, and ever
since their undergraduate days had been intimate chums.

His lordship's illness proved of longer duration than was at first
anticipated. Sir Evered remained at Bracondale a whole week, and then,
finding that his patient was progressing favourably, returned to London,
leaving the case in the hands of Dr. Wright-Gilson and Dr. Noel Tanner,
while Sister Gertrude and Jean did the nursing.

Life at Bracondale Jean found extremely pleasant. The great house, with
its luxuriously-furnished rooms, its fine picture-gallery, where, often,
in her hours of recreation, she wandered; the big winter-garden with
palms and exotic flowers, the conservatories, the huge ballroom--wherein
long ago the minuet had been danced by high-born dames in wigs and
patches--the fine suites of rooms with gilded cornices--all were, to
her, full of interest.

The great house was built by the second Earl of Bracondale, who was the
famous Chancellor of the Exchequer in the reign of Charles I., and ever
since the Bracondales had borne their part