I suppose I ought to have been cured, and in fact I was cured—­of going to that doctor.  I paid him and went back to the apartment, my head soon in a whirl from a new onset of the fever.

I managed to get back into my bath-robe, and threw myself down on the divan, propped up with pillows.  I had taken the pills but they had no more effect than sugar of milk.  By this time, I was much more delirious and was crying out.

I saw faces about me, but I did not see the faces which were actually out by our hall door.  Wu Fang and Long Sin had waited patiently for their revenge.  Now that they thought sufficient time had elapsed, they had stolen stealthily to the apartment door.  While Long Sin watched, Wu listened.

“The white devil has it,” whispered Wu Fang, as he rejoined his fellow conspirator.

How long I should have remained in this state, and in fact how long I did remain, I don’t know.  Vaguely, I recall that our acquaintance, Johnson, who had the apartment across the hall, at last heard my cries and came out to his own door.  He needed only a moment to listen at ours to know that something was wrong.

“Why, what’s the matter, Jameson?” he asked, poking his head in and looking anxiously at me.

I could only rave some reply, and he tried his best to quiet me.  “What’s the matter, old man?” he repeated.  “Tell me.  Shall I send for a doctor?”

Somehow or other I knew the state I was in.  I knew it was Johnson, yet it all seemed unreal to me.  With a great effort I gathered all my scattered wits and managed to shout out, “Telegraph Kennedy—­ Rockledge.”

By this time Johnson himself was thoroughly alarmed.  He did not lose a second in dictating a telegram over the telephone.

. . . . . . .

At about the same time, up at Rockledge, Kennedy and Elaine, with her cousin Mary Brown, were starting out for a horseback ride through the hills.  They were chatting gaily, but Kennedy was forcing himself to do so.

In fact, they had scarcely gone half a mile when Kennedy, who was riding between the two and fighting off by sheer nerve the illness he felt, suddenly fell over in half a faint on the horse’s neck.  Elaine and Mary reined up their horses.

“Why, Craig,” cried Elaine, startled, “what’s the matter?”

The sound of her voice seemed to arouse him.  He braced up.  “Oh, nothing, I guess,” he said with a forced smile.  “I’m all right.”

It was no use, however.  They had to cut short the ride, and Kennedy returned to the house, glad to drop down in an easy chair on the porch, while Elaine hovered about him solicitously.  His head buzzed, his skin was hot and dry, his eyes had an unnatural look.  Every now and then he would place his hand to his ear as though he felt some pain.

They had already summoned the country doctor, but it took him some time to get out to the house.  Suddenly a messenger boy rode up on his bicycle and mounted the porch steps.  “Telegram for Mr. Kennedy,” he announced, looking about and picking out Craig naturally as the person he wanted.