mahogany table, with the scallop shell containing a piece of soap and a
washball, and the basin with its jug of water standing therein. Again he
listened while you might count two, and dipped the handkerchief, so
folded, into the water, and quietly squeezed it; and stood white and
glittering by Sturk's bed-side.

People moved very noiselessly about that house, and scarcely a minute
had passed when the door opened softly, and the fair Magnolia Macnamara
popped in her glowing face and brilliant glance, and whispered.

'Are you there, Mrs. Sturk, dear?'

At the far side of the bed, Dangerfield, with his flashing spectacles
and snowy aspect, and a sort of pant, rose up straight, and looked into
her eyes, like a white bird of prey disturbed over its carrion.

She uttered a little scream--quite pale on a sudden--for she did not
recognise the sinister phantom who glimmered at her over the prostrate
Sturk.

But Dangerfield laughed his quiet hollow 'ha! ha! ha!' and said
promptly,

'A strange old nurse I make, Miss Macnamara. But what can I do? Mrs.
Sturk has left me in charge, and faith I believe our patient's looking
mighty badly.'

He had observed Miss Mag glancing from him to the dumb figure in the bed
with a puzzled kind of horror.

The fact is, Sturk's face had a leaden tint; he looked, evidently
enough, even in that dim candle-light, a great deal worse than the
curious Miss Mag was accustomed to see him.

'He's very low, to-night, and seems oppressed, and his pulse is failing;
in fact, my dear young lady, he's plainly worse to-night than I like to
tell poor Mrs. Sturk, you understand.'

'And his face looks so shiny and damp-like,' said Miss Mag, with a
horrible sort of scrutiny.

'Exactly so, Miss, 'tis _weakness_,' observed Dangerfield.

'And you were wiping it with your pocket-handkerchief when I looked in,'
continued Miss Mag.

'Was I--ha, ha--'tis wonderful how quick we learn a new business. I vow
I begin to think I should make a very respectable nursetender.'

'And what the dickens brings _him_ up here?' asked Miss Mag of herself;
so soon as the first shock was over, the oddity of the situation struck
her as she looked with perplexed and unpleasant sort of enquiry at Mr.
Dangerfield.

Just then up came the meek little Mrs. Sturk, and the gentleman greeted
her with a 'Well, Madam, I have not left his bedside since you went
down; and I think he looks a little better--just a little--eh?'

'I trust a