He broke off, for there was the thud of a heavy footstep for which he had
been listening. Joel Mazarine was returning.

"Won't they let me help nurse him?" she whispered.

The Young Doctor shook his head in negation. "His mother will be here
to-morrow," he said quickly. "Be wise, my child."

"You understand?" she whispered wistfully.

"I have no understanding. Go to bed," he answered sharply. "Shut the
door at once."

When old Joel Mazarine's footsteps were heard upon the staircase again,
Orlando was lying with half-closed eyes, watching, yet too weak to speak;
and the Young Doctor was giving directions to Rada and Li Choo for the
night-watch in Orlando's room. When Mazarine entered, the Young Doctor
gave him a casual nod and went on with his directions. When he had
finished, Rada said in her broken English, with an accent half-Indian,
half-French:

"His mother you send for--yes? She come queeck. Some one must take care
him when for me get breakfus and Li Choo do chores."

"We'll send for her in the morning," interrupted Joel Mazarine.

"Perhaps Mrs. Mazarine would be well enough to help a little in the
morning," remarked the Young Doctor in a colourless voice. He knew when
to be audacious; or, if he did not know, he had an instinct; and he
noticed that the wounded man's eyelids did not even blink when he threw