thinks the Winscombes will be able to sail on the _Lindamira_ as they
planned."

Ludowika listened seriously to Gilbert Penny's few, temperate words of
preparation. "He has had a pain like that before," she told them. "It
always passes away. Felix is really very strong, in spite of his age. He
won't ordinarily go to bed, but I'll insist on that now, simply for
rest." Felix Winscombe appeared at the supper hour. He was helped out
of Abner Forsythe's leather-hung chaise, and assisted into the house.
Howat saw him under the hanging lamp in the hall; with a painful
surprise he realized that he was gazing at the haggard face of an old
man. Before he had never connected the thought of definite age with Mr.
Winscombe. The man's satirical virility had forbidden any of the
patronage unconsciously extended to the aged.

A trace of his familiar, mocking smile remained, but it was tremulous;
it required, Howat saw, great effort. An involuntary admiration
possessed him for the other's unquenchable courage. The latter protested
vehemently against being led to his room by Ludowika; but she ignored
his determination to go into supper, swept him away with a firm arm
about his waist.

The house took on the slightly strange and disordered aspect of illness;
voices were grave, low; in the morning Howat learned that Felix
Winscombe had had another vicious attack in the night. Dr. Watlow
arrived, and demanded assistance. Howat Penny, in the room where
Ludowika's husband lay exhausted in a bed canopied and draped in gay
India silk, followed Watlow's actions with a healthy feeling of
revulsion. The doctor bared Winscombe's spare chest, then filled a
shallow, thick glass with spirits; emptying the latter, he set fire to
the interior of the glass; and, when the blue flame had expired, clapped
the cupped interior over the prostrate man's heart. There was, it
seemed, little else that could be done; bleeding was judged for the
once unexpeditious.

An effort at commonplace conversation was maintained at dinner. Ludowika
openly discussed the arrangements for their return to London. Felix
Winscombe had rallied from the night; his wife said that it was
difficult to restrain him. The most comfortable provisions, she
continued, had been made for their passage on the _Lindamira_. Howat
heard her without resentment. He had no wish to contradict her
needlessly even in thought; he was immovably fixed. Mr. Winscombe's
debilitated return had completely up