'The poor fellow has had a nasty accident,' said Dick; 'run over in the street, it seems. He ought to have been taken to the infirmary, but they got a letter with his address on it in his pocket, and brought him here.'
'Has a doctor seen him?'
'Yes, but I hardly make out from the housekeeper what he said. He was gone before I went up. There are some signs, however, of what he did. The poor fellow seems to have been struck on the head.'
Mary shuddered, understanding that some operation had been found necessary.
'Did he speak to you?' asked Nell.
'He was asleep,' said Dick, 'but talking more than he does when he is awake.'
'He must have been delirious,' said Mary.
'One thing I can't make out,' Dick said, more to himself than to his companions. 'He mumbled my name to himself half a dozen times while I was upstairs.'
'But is there anything remarkable in that,' asked Mary, 'if he has so few friends in London?'
'What I don't understand,' explained Dick, 'is that the word I caught was Abinger. Now, I am quite certain that he only knew me as Noble Simms.'
'Some one must have told him your real name,' said Mary. 'Is he asleep now?'
'That reminds me of another thing,' said Dick, looking at the torn card in his hand. 'Just as I was coming away he staggered off the couch where he is lying to his desk, opened it, and took out this card. He glared at it, and tore it in two before I got him back to the couch.'
There were tears in Nell's eyes now, for she felt that she understood it all.
'It is horrible to think of him alone up there,' she cried. 'Let us go up to him, Mary.'
Mary hesitated.
'I don't think it would be the thing,' she said, taking the card from Nell's hand. She started slightly as she looked at it, and then became white.
'What is his name, Dick?' she faltered, in a voice that made Nell look at her.
'Angus,' said Dick. 'He has been on the Press here for some months.'
The name suggested nothing at the moment to Nell, but Mary let the card fall. It was a shabby little Christmas card.
'I think we should go up and see if we can do anything,' Dick's sister said.
'But would it be the thing?' Nell asked.
'Of course it would,' said Mary, a little surprised at Nell.
CHAPTER XII
THE STUPID SEX
Give a man his chance, and he has sufficient hardihood for anything. Within a week of the accident Rob was in Dick Abinger's most luxurious chair, coolly taking a cup and saucer from Nell, while Mary arranged a cushion for his poor head. He even made several light-hearted jests, at which his nurses laughed heartily – because he was an invalid.
Rob's improvement dated from the moment he opened his eyes and heard the soft rustle of a lady's skirts in the next room. He lay quietly listening, and realised by and by that he had known she was Mary Abinger all along.
'Who is that?' he said abruptly to Dick, who was swinging his legs on the dressing-table. Dick came to him as awkwardly as if he had been asked to hold a baby, and saw no way of getting out of it. Sick-rooms chilled him.
'Are you feeling better now, old fellow?' he asked.
'Who is it?' Rob repeated, sitting up in bed.
'That is my sister,' Dick said.
Rob's head fell back. He could not take it in all at once. Dick thought he had fallen asleep, and tried to slip gently from the room, discovering for the first time as he did so that his shoes creaked.
'Don't go,' said Rob, sitting up again. 'What is your sister's name?'
'Abinger, of course, Mary Abinger,' answered Dick, under the conviction that the invalid was still off his head. He made for the door again, but Rob's arm went out suddenly and seized him.
'You are a liar, you know,' Rob said feebly; 'she's not your sister.'
'No, of course not,' said Dick, humouring him.
'I want to see her,' Rob said authoritatively.
'Certainly,' answered Dick, escaping into the other room to tell Mary that the patient was raving again.
'I heard him,' said Mary.
'Well, what's to be done?' asked her brother. 'He's madder than ever.'
'Oh no, I think he's getting on nicely now,' Mary said, moving toward the bedroom.
'Don't,' exclaimed Dick, getting in front of her; 'why, I tell you his mind is wandering. He says you're not my sister.'
'Of course he can't understand so long as he thinks your name is Simms.'
'But he knows my name is Abinger. Didn't I tell you I heard him groaning it over to himself?'
'Oh, Dick,' said Mary, 'I wish you would go away and write a stupid article.'
Dick, however, stood at the door, ready to come to his sister's assistance if Rob got violent.
'He says you are his sister,' said the patient to Mary.
'So I am,' said Mary softly. 'My brother writes under the name of Noble Simms, but his real name is Abinger. Now you must lie still and think about that; you are not to talk any more.'
'I won't talk any more,' said Rob slowly. 'You are not going away, though?'
'Just for a little while,' Mary answered. 'The doctor will be here presently.'
'Well, you have quieted him,' Dick admitted.
They were leaving the room, when they heard Rob calling.
'There he goes again,' said Dick, groaning.
'What is it?' Mary asked, returning to the bedroom.
'Why did he say you were not his sister?' Rob said, very suspiciously.
'Oh, his mind was wandering,' Mary answered cruelly.
She was retiring again, but stopped undecidedly. Then she looked from the door to see if her brother was within hearing. Dick was at the other end of the sitting-room, and she came back noiselessly to Rob's bedside.
'Do you remember,' she asked, in a low voice, 'how the accident happened? You know you were struck by a cab.'
'Yes,' answered Rob at once, 'I saw him kissing you. I don't remember anything after that.'
Mary, looking like a culprit, glanced hurriedly at the door. Then she softly pushed the invalid's unruly hair off his brow, and glided from the room smiling.
'Well?' asked Dick.
'He was telling me how the accident happened,' Mary said.
'And how was it?'
'Oh, just as you said. He got bewildered at a crossing and was knocked over.'
'But he wasn't the man to lose his reason at a crossing,' said Dick. 'There must have been something to agitate him.'
'He said nothing about that,' replied Mary, without blushing.
'Did he tell you how he knew my name was Abinger?' Dick asked, as they went downstairs.
'No,' his sister said, 'I forgot to ask him.'
'There was that Christmas card, too,' Dick said suddenly. 'Nell says Angus must be in love, poor fellow.'
'Nell is always thinking people are in love,' Mary answered severely.
'By the way,' said Dick, 'what became of the card? He might want to treasure it, you know.'
'I – I rather think I put it somewhere,' Mary said.
'I wonder,' Dick remarked curiously, 'what sort of girl Angus would take to?'
'I wonder,' said Mary.
They were back in Dick's chambers by this time, and he continued with some complacency – for all men think they are on safe ground when discussing an affair of the heart: —
'We could build the young lady up from the card, which, presumably, was her Christmas offering to him. It was not expensive, so she is a careful young person; and the somewhat florid design represents a blue bird sitting on a pink twig, so that we may hazard the assertion that her artistic taste is not as yet fully developed. She is a fresh country maid, or the somewhat rich colouring would not have taken her fancy, and she is short, a trifle stout, or a big man like Angus would not have fallen in love with her. Reserved men like gushing girls, so she gushes and says "Oh my!" and her nicest dress (here Dick shivered) is of a shiny satin with a dash of rich velvet here and there. Do you follow me?'
'Yes,' said Mary; 'it is wonderful. I suppose, now, you are never wrong when you "build up" so much on so little?'
'Sometimes we go a little astray,' admitted Dick. 'I remember going into a hotel with Rorrison once, and on a table we saw a sailor-hat lying, something like the one Nell wears – or is it you?'