Jameson very ill. Wants you. Better come.

JOHNSON.

The message seemed to rouse Kennedy in spite of his fever. His
face showed keen alarm, which he endeavored to conceal from
Elaine. But her quick eye had caught the look.

"I must see Walter," he exclaimed, rising rather weakly and going
into the house.

How he ever did it is still, I think, a mystery to him, but he
managed to pack up and, in spite of the alternating fever and
chills, made the journey back to the city.

When at last Craig arrived at our apartment, it must have seemed
to him that he found me almost at death's door. I was terribly ill
and weak by that time, but had refused to see the doctor again and
Johnson had managed to get me into bed.

Ill himself, Kennedy threw himself down for a moment exhausted.
"When did this thing come on Walter?" he asked of Johnson.

"Yesterday, I think, at least as nearly as I can find out,"
replied our friend.

Craig was decidedly worried. "There's only one person in New York
to call on," he murmured, pulling himself out of bed and getting
into the living-room as best he could.