house, shrieking as he went. A sweat broke
out on his forehead, his lips clung to his teeth, his mouth was dry, his
breast seemed to contract, and breathing hurt him.

"What a fool I was! What a fool I was to come here!" he said.

He buried his head in his arms as he leaned against the wall, and his
legs trembled. From that moment he passed from headlong, daring, lovable
youth, to manhood; understanding, fearful, conscientious, and morally
strong. Just as abject as was his sudden fear, so triumphant was his
reassertion of himself.

"It was the only way," he said to himself, suddenly wresting his head
from his protecting arms. "There's a chance of life, anyhow, chance
for all of us." He turned away to the sick man's bed, to see the beggar
watching him with cold, passive eyes and a curious, half-sneering smile.
He braced himself and met the passive, scrutinising looks firmly. The
beggar said nothing, but motioned to him to lift the sick man upright,
while he poured some tincture down his throat, and bound the head and
neck about with saturated linen.

There came a knocking at the door. The beggar frowned, but Cumner's Son
turned eagerly. He had only been in this room ten hours, but it seemed
like years in which he had lived alone-alone. But he met firmly the
passive, inquisitorial eyes of the healer of the plague, and he turned,
dropped another bar across the door, and bade the intruder to depart.

"It is I, Tang-a-Dahit. Open!" came a loud, anxious voice.

"You may not come in."

"I am thy brother-in-blood, and my life is thine."

"Then keep it safe for those who prize it. Go back to the Palace."

"I am not needed there. My place is with thee."

"Go, then, to the little house by the Aqueduct." There was silence for a
moment, and then Tang-a-Dahit said:

"Wilt thou not let me enter?"

The sudden wailing of the stricken man drowned Tang-a-Dahit's words,
and without a word Cumner's Son turned again to the victim of the Red
Plague.

All day the people watched from afar, and all day long soldiers and
hillsmen drew a wide cordon of quarantine round the house. Terror seized
the people when the sun went down, and to the watchers the suspense
grew. Ceaseless, alert, silent, they had watched and waited, and at last
the beggar knelt with his eyes fixed on the sleeper, and did not stir. A
little way off from him stood Cumner's Son-patient, pale, worn, older by
ten years than he was three days before.

In the city di