Mrs. Falchion. Presently I saw him rise to go away. A moment after,
in passing, I was near her. She sprang up, caught my arm, and pointed
anxiously. I looked, and saw Galt Roscoe swaying as he walked.

"He is ill--ill," she said.

I ran forward and caught him as he was falling. Ill?

Of course he was ill. What a fool I had been! Five minutes with him
assured me that he had fever. I had set his haggard appearance down to
some mental trouble--and I was going to be a professor in a medical
college!

Yet I know now that a troubled mind hastened the fever.




CHAPTER X

BETWEEN DAY AND DARK

From the beginning Galt Roscoe's fever was violent. It had been hanging
about him for a long time, and was the result of malarial poisoning. I
devoutly wished that we were in the Mediterranean instead of the Red Sea,
where the heat was so great; but fortunately we should soon be there.
There was no other case of sickness on board, and I could devote plenty
of time to him. Offers of assistance in nursing were numerous, but I
only encouraged those of the bookmaker, strange as this may seem; yet he
was as gentle and considerate as a woman in the sick-room. This was on