already on their way to town. When they arrived in Piccadilly, and went
into the sick-room, Lionel did not know them; most likely he merely
confused them with the crowding phantoms of his brain. He was now in a
high state of fever, but the delirium was not violent; he lay murmuring
and moaning, and it was only chance phrases they could catch--about
some one being lost--and a wide and dark sea--and so forth. Sometimes he
fancied that Nina was standing at the door, and he would appeal
piteously to her, and then sink back with a sigh, as if convinced once
more that it was only a vision. The Winstead people took apartments for
themselves at a hotel in Half-Moon Street; but of course they spent
nearly all their time in this sitting-room, where they could do little
but listen to the reports of the doctors, and wait and hope.

In the afternoon Mangan said,

"Francie, you're not used to sitting in-doors all day; won't you come
out for a little stroll in the Park over there?"

"And I'm sure you want a breath of fresh air as much as any one, Mr.
Mangan," the old lady said. "What would my boy have done without you all
this time?"

Francie at once and obediently put on her things, and she and Maurice
went down-stairs and crossed the street and entered the Park, where they
could walk up and down the unfrequented ways and talk as they pleased.

"I suppose you will be going down to the House of Commons almost
directly?" she asked.

"Oh, no," he answered. "I've begged off. I could not think of getting to
work while Linn is so ill as that."

"Do you know what I have been thinking all day, Maurice?" she said,
gently. "When I saw you with the doctors, and when I heard of all you
have done since Saturday morning--well, I could not help thinking that
there must be something fine about Lionel to have secured him such a
friend."

He looked at her with some surprise.

"But you have been his friend--all these years!" he said.

"Ah, that's different; we were brought up together. Tell me--the Nina he
is always talking about--I suppose that is the Italian girl who was at
the theatre, and whom he knew in Naples--he used to write home about
her--"

[Illustration: "_He uttered a loud shriek, and struggled wildly to raise
himself._"]

"Yes," he said; "and it is only now I am beginning to understand
something of the situation. I do believe mental distress has had as much
to do with bringing on this fever as anything else; the chill