should appear in this case.

"No," he said abstractedly, his mind revisiting the banks of the
Vistula; "no, I am not in pain. I was thinking."

The nurse held a draught to his lips. Carter resolutely put it to one
side. "Wait," he commanded, "I must know how I came here, or I will not
rest with a thousand soporifics."

"Mr. Saunderson picked you up just as you were drowning in the Vistula.
You have been ill ever since--delirious."

"Good old Billy," he said in gratitude, then turned a silent inquiry on
the nurse. She saw the awful heart-hunger in his eyes and, had she
followed her impulse, would have thrown a sisterly arm about him in
solace, so compelling was the look, so hopeless its message. "Was
any--was any one saved with me?" he ventured. "Did any one come with me
here? On the boat? For God's sake, nurse, tell me." His quivering life
seemed hanging in the balance. The magnitude of his gravity filled the
woman with sudden apprehension. She feared equally to tell him or refuse
him.

"I was not there, Mr. Carter. I cannot tell," she compromised. "Mr.
Saunderson will make his usual call this afternoon. You can ask him; he
will doubtless tell you." Partially reassured by this, Carter fell
asleep.

When he awoke he felt much stronger. The nurse was standing at the
bedside smiling down at him.

"Mr. Saunderson is waiting in the library. If I let him come in to see
you, will you be good?"

Carter readily promised, as he would have anything just then, at the
opportunity of resolving his doubts. Saunderson was ushered in quietly;
when he bent over the patient, the latter wrenched the proffered hand
with hysterical strength.

"See here, Carter, this won't do," said his caller, making a wry face;
"I believe that you have been shamming these two months."

"Two months?" Carter sat upright. "Have I been laid up that long?"

"To the very day," said Saunderson, smiling.

"Tell me, Billy, how you came to be out there. I want to thank you for
saving my life, though I don't know yet whether you have done a wise or
a foolish thing."

"So? How soon can you let me know? Dorothy says it's the only sensible,
useful thing I've ever done. You always were a favorite of Mrs.
Saunderson, you know."

"It's a serious matter, Billy, so I want the truth for what I'm going to
ask you. Give it to me straight from the shoulder and don't mince
matters. Promise?"

"I must confess, Cal, I don't see what you're driving at, but I sup