"Hush!" commanded the Judge.

From the bedroom, leaning on the butler's arm, Stephen
Hallowell came stumbling toward them and, with a sigh, sank into
an invalid's chair that was placed for him between the fire and
the long library table.. He was a very feeble, very old man,
with a white face, and thin, white hair, but with a mouth and
lower jaw as hard and uncompromising as those of a skull. His
eyes, which were strangely brilliant and young-looking, peered
suspiciously from under ragged white eyebrows. But when they
fell upon the doctor, the eyes became suddenly credulous,
pleading, filled with self-pity.

"I'm a very sick man, Doctor," said Mr. Hallowell.

Judge Gaylor bustled forward cheerily. "Nonsense, Stephen,
nonsense," he cried; "you look a different man this morning.
Doesn't he, Doctor?"

"Sure he does!" assented Rainey. "Little sleep was all he
needed." Mr. Hallowell shook his head petulantly. "Not at all!"
he protested. "That was a very serious attack. This morning my
head hurts -- hurts me to think -- "

"Perhaps," said Gaylor, "you'd prefer that I talked to your
niece."

"No!" exclaimed the invalid excitedly. "I want to see her
myself. I want to tell her, once and for all -- " He checked
himself and frowned at the Doctor. "You needn't wait," he said.