t any given time, or even that you were there to stay for
ever. It's the uncertainty that kills. And that--"

"Well?" Reed asked him steadily.

"Is just as great as ever."

"You mean?"

The doctor straightened in his chair, stiffening himself to administer
the bitter draught.

"That the dozen best surgeons in the country never could agree on it,
whether you will come out of this thing, or not. All we can do is to
grip our courage, and leave the matter--"

"On the knees of Allah?" Reed asked a little bitterly.

The doctor's reply was grave.

"Yes, Reed. Upon the knees of Allah and within the hands of modern
science. They are bound to work together, in a case like this."

The grip upon Reed's shoulder tightened for a minute. Then it fell
away, and again the supple fingers shut upon Reed's wrist.

"It's no especial use to preach to you about keeping up your courage,
Reed. You're bound to do that, being you. I only wish I could have
given you a squarer answer to your question; but--I can't. Now, about
the surgeons: you'd like to have them come up again?"

Reed shook his head, and the gesture was a weary one.

"No use, doctor. I believe you--now. I had thought you were putting me
off, out of a mistaken sense of friendship, and that I'd be able to
worm the facts of the case from them. However, now you admit that the
present uncertainty is the worst thing of all, I'm ready to take your
word--only--it hurts! All night, I've been bracing myself to take it,
and now nobody knows when it will come, or how." For a little while, he
lay quite still; and the doctor sat still beside him, waiting. At last,
Reed looked up with a forced alertness. "How is Olive?" he inquired,
quite in his ordinary tone.

Instantly the doctor's face changed, lost its look of waiting strain,
grew frankly worried.

"Reed, I wish I knew," he said.

"Is she ill?" Opdyke's voice sharpened.

"No; she's all right, only something has upset her. Didn't she come
here, yesterday? No? I thought she was in here, every day; and maybe
that--" The doctor checked himself abruptly.

A ghost of a smile flitted across Reed's face, although the hair still
lay damp upon his temples.

"That we had been fighting, doctor?" he inquired. "Your fatherly fears
misled you. I haven't seen her for two days."

"Queer!" It was evident that Doctor Keltridge, as he rose, was thinking
things out loud. "She was all right at breakfast, jolly as you please.
Then she went