“But I thought he had been—­ill?”

“Tired out.  Small wonder, at the pace he was going—­the working pace, I mean.  He never let up on himself.  I got him here to rest up.  He would have been off long ago if I would have given him leave, but I had his promise to keep away from work till he was thoroughly fit for it, so I’ve made the most of my chance.  I shall never get another.  If I know him he’ll be back in his office before the week ends.  Once give a chap like him a taste of work after idleness, and there’s no use trying to hold him.”

“You think him fully fit, now?”

“Never so fit in his life, if I’m any judge.  I’ve seen him at work many a time, and I never saw finer methods than his to-day, his own or any man’s—­and I’ve watched some pretty smooth things.  By the way, I understand you had met Dr. Leaver before you met him here?”

“Yes, I had met him.”

Burns was not possessed of more than the ordinary amount of curiosity concerning other people’s affairs, but he was accustomed to observe human nature and note its signs, and it struck him now rather suddenly that both John Leaver and Charlotte Ruston had seemed rather more than necessarily non-committal concerning an acquaintance which both admitted.  He saw no reason why he should not ask a question or two.  Asking questions was a part of his profession.

“I hope you’ve managed to coax him before your camera.  He’s looking so well now, I’d like a picture of him before he goes back and works himself down again.”

“You might suggest it to him,” said Miss Ruston.  She was looking straight ahead.  She wore a hat of white linen, of a picturesque shape, such as are in vogue in the country in warm weather, and it drooped more or less about her face.  Burns could not see her eyes when she looked forward, but he could see her mouth.  It was an expressive mouth, and it looked particularly expressive just now.  The trouble was that he could not tell just what it expressed.

“I’ll do it, this afternoon, and keep it as a reminder of a patient of whom I think a heap.  No, I can’t do it this afternoon, either, for he won’t leave Jamie till he can leave him comfortably over the first stage.  But by to-morrow afternoon, perhaps.  We’ll have to catch him on the fly, for I’m confident he’ll be off the minute the youngster is out of danger.  Well, I hope you know my friend well enough to appreciate that he’s about the finest there is anywhere?”

“I’m beginning to know you well enough, Dr. Burns, to see that you care more to have your friends appreciated than to win praise yourself.”

“No, no—­oh, Cesar, no!  I’ve not reached such a sublime height of altruism as that.  To tell you the honest truth—­which is supposed to be good for the soul—­I’m horribly envious of Jack Leaver for having done that stunt this morning.”

“Envious?  Of course you are.  At the same time would you have taken it away from him and have done it yourself, if you had had the chance?”