“To-morrow,” said the doctor, “I shall have a young fellow here who happens to be a cousin of mine.  He is an excellent trained nurse, a fellow we can rely upon.  He’ll take your place.  I’ll have him here to-morrow, and you must get away.  Hide somewhere.  Don’t even allow your mail to be forwarded.  The nurse and I will take care of Mr. Ferriss.  You can leave me your address, and I will wire you if it is necessary.  Now be persuaded like a reasonable man.  I will stake my professional reputation that you will knock under if you stay here with a sick man on your hands and newspaper men taking the house by storm at all hours of the day.  Come now, will you go?  Mr. Ferriss is in no danger, and you will do him more harm by staying than by going.  So long as you remain here you will have this raft of people in the rooms at all hours.  Deny yourself!  Keep them out!  Keep out the American reporter when he goes gunning for a returned explorer!  Do you think this,” and he pointed again to the crowd in the anteroom, “is the right condition for a sick man’s quarters?  You are imperilling his safety, to say nothing of your own, by staying beside him—­you draw the fire, Mr. Bennett.”

“Well, there’s something in that,” muttered Bennett, pulling at his mustache.  “But—­” Bennett hesitated, then:  “Pitts, I want you to take my place here if I go away.  Have a nurse if you like, but I shouldn’t feel justified in leaving the boy in his condition unless I knew you were with him continually.  I don’t know what your practice is worth to you, say for a month, or until the boy is out of danger, but make me a proposition.  I think we can come to an understanding.”

“But it won’t be necessary to have a doctor with Mr. Ferriss constantly.  I should see him every day and the nurse—­”

Bennett promptly overrode his objections.  Harshly and abruptly he exclaimed:  “I’m not taking any chances.  It shall be as I say.  I want the boy well, and I want you and the nurse to see to it that he gets well.  I’ll meet the expenses.”

Bennett did not hear the doctor’s response and his suggestion as to the advisability of taking Ferriss to his own house in the country while he could be moved.  For the moment he was not listening.  An idea had abruptly presented itself to him.  He was to go to the country.  But where?  A grim smile began to relax the close-gripped lips and the hard set of the protruding jaw.  He tugged again at his mustache, scowling at the doctor, trying to hide his humour.

“Well, that’s settled then,” he said; “I’ll get away to-morrow—­somewhere.”

“Whereabouts?” demanded the doctor.  “I shall want to let you know how we progress.”

Bennett chose to feel a certain irritation.  What business of Pitts was it whom he went to see, or, rather, where he meant to go?

“You told me to hide away from everybody, not even to allow my mail to be forwarded.  But I’ll let you know where to reach me, of course, as soon as I get there.  It won’t be far from town.”