Finally the thing was done. West turned the handle and the door swung
inward. The doctor crossed to the bedside and took hold of the sleeping
man's shoulder. He shook it vigorously.

"Nigel!" he called sharply once or twice. "Wake up! Wake up!"

But Merriton never moved. The performance was repeated and the call was
louder.

"Nigel! I say, wake up--wake up! We've news for you!"

The sleeping man stirred suddenly and wrenched his shoulder away.

"Let go of me, Wynne, damn you!" he broke out petulantly, his eyes
opening. "I've beaten you this time, anyhow, so part of our score is
marked off! Let go, I say--I--I--_Doctor Bartholomew_! What in Heaven's
name's the matter? I've been asleep, haven't I? What is it? You look as
though you had seen a ghost!"

He was thoroughly awake now, and struggled to a sitting position. The
doctor's face twisted wryly.

"I--wish I had, Nigel," he said bitterly. "Even ghosts would be better
than--nothing at all. We've been out searching for Wynne, and I--"

"_Been out?_"

"Yes, across the Fens. We were anxious. Wynne didn't come back, you know,
and so after we'd got you to bed we thought we'd make up a search party