“Listen now, Jamieson,” said Dunwody, “You’re here by my call.  You understand me, and understand the rules of your own profession.  Ask no questions here.  Your patient has broken an arm—­there has been an accident.  That’s all you need to know, I think.  Your job is to get her well, as soon as you can.  You’re a doctor, not a lawyer; that’s all.”

He led the way to the door of Josephine’s room, and the doctor, stained with travel as he was, entered.  He was an old man, gray and lean, consumed in his time by fevers and chills, in the treatment of which he was perhaps more skilful than in surgery.  He approached the couch not unkindly and stood in preliminary professional scrutiny of his patient.  The face turned toward him, framed in its dark roll of hair, caused him to start with surprise.  Even thus flushed in the fever of pain, it seemed to him no face ever was more beautiful.  Who was she?  How came she here?  In spite of Dunwody’s command many questions sprang to his own mind, almost to his lips.  Yet now he only gently took up the bandaged arm.

“Pardon, my dear,” he said quietly.  “I must unwrap these bandages, to see how well Eleazar has done his work—­you know, these doctors are jealous of each other!  So now, easy, easy!”

He unrolled the rude bandages which, if not professionally applied, at least had held their own.  He examined the splints, hummed to himself meantime.

“Fine!” he exclaimed.  “Excellent!  Now indeed I shall be jealous.  The old man has done a job as good as I could have done myself!  There was no need of my coming at all.  But I’m glad I came, my dear.”

“But you aren’t going away.  Doctor—­you will not go back!”

He pursed a lip as he gazed down over his steel bowed glasses.  “I ought to get back, my dear, because I have other patients, don’t you see, and it’s a long ride.  Why can’t you let me go?  You’re young and healthy as a wild deer.  You’re a perfectly splendid girl.  Why, you’ll be out of this in a couple of weeks.  How did you happen to fall that way?”

[Illustration:  Why can’t you let me go?]

She nodded toward the window.  “I fell out—­there—­I was frightened.”

“Yes, yes, of course—­sleep walking, eh?”

Jamieson took snuff very vigorously.  “Don’t do it again.  But pshaw!  If I were as young and strong as you are, I’d have my arm broken twice a week, just for fun.”

“Doctor, you’re going!” she exclaimed.  “But you must do something for me—­you must be my friend.”

“Certainly, my dear, why not?  But how can I help you?  Dunwody’s pledged me to professional secrecy, you know.”  He grinned, “Not that even Warv’ Dunwody can run me very much.”

He looked down at her, frowning, but at that moment turned to the door as he heard Dunwody’s step.

“How do you find the patient, Doctor?” asked Dunwody.  Jamieson moved a hand in cheerful gesture to his patient.