James went off on a long drive across the country, calling on his way at the scattered houses of the patients.  He did not return until noon, just before the luncheon-bell rang.  Entering by the office door he found Gordon sitting before the hearth-fire, smoking, and staring gloomily at the leaping flames.  He looked up when James entered, said good morning in an abstracted fashion, and asked some questions about the patients whom he had visited.  James hesitated about inquiring for the man who had been injured the night before, but finally he did so.  The dog had sprung up to greet him, and between his pats on the white head and commands of “Down, sir, down!” he asked as casually as he could if Gordon had seen his patient who had fallen in the drive the night before, and how he was.  Gordon turned upon James a face of such fierce misery that the younger man fairly recoiled.  “He isn’t going to die?” he cried.

“No, he is not going to die.  He shall not die!” Gordon replied with passionate emphasis.  Then he added, in response to James’s wondering, half-frightened look, “I have been there all the morning.  I have just come home.  I have left everything for him.  I don’t dare get a nurse.  I am afraid.  He may talk a good deal.  Georgie K. is with him now.  I can trust him, but I can’t trust a nurse.  I am going back after luncheon, and you may go with me.  I would like you to see him.”

“Does he seem to be very ill?” James asked timidly.

“Not from the—­the—­wound,” replied Gordon, “but I am afraid of something else.”

“What?”

“Erysipelas.  I am afraid of that setting in.  In fact, I am not altogether sure that it has not.  He is an erysipelas subject.  He has told me of two severe attacks which he has had.  When he fell he got an abrasion of the cheek.  That looks worse than the—­the—­wound.  I should like you to see him.  You have seen erysipelas cases, of course, in your hospital practice.”

“Oh, yes.”

“There is the bell for luncheon.  We will go directly afterward.”

James wondered within himself at the feverish haste with which Gordon swallowed his luncheon, frequently looking at his watch.  He was actually showing more anxiety over this man who had hounded him, of whom he had lived in dread, than James had seen him show over any patient since he had been with him.  It seemed to him inconsistent.  Mrs. Ewing did not come down to luncheon; Clemency said that she was not feeling as well as usual but Gordon did not seem much disturbed even by that.  He gave Clemency some powders, with instructions how to administer them to the sick woman before he left, but he did not show concern, and did not go upstairs to see her.  Clemency herself looked pale and anxious.

She found a chance to whisper to James before he went.  “Is that man very much hurt?” she said close to his ear.

“Hush, dear.  I am afraid so.”