dead, but the doctors fear that he may not recover. His wound is dangerous. He has been shot by some unknown person."
"Shot!" she echoed, bursting into tears. "Then they have followed him, after all! They have deceived me, and now, as they intend to take him from me, I will myself protect him. You, Mr. Gregg, have been in peril of your life, that I know, but Jack's enemies are yours, and they shall not go unpunished. May I see him?"
"I fear not, but we will ask at the hospital." And after the exchange of some further explanations, we took a hansom hack to Charing Cross.
At first the sister refused to allow Muriel to see the patient, but she implored so earnestly that at last she consented, and the distressed girl in black coat and hat crept on tiptoe to the bedside.
"He was conscious for a quarter of an hour or so, whispered the nurse who sat there. "He asked after some lady named Muriel."
The girl at my side burst into low sobbing.
"Tell him," she said, "that Muriel is here — that she has seen him, and is waiting for him to recover."
We were not allowed to linger there, and on leaving the hospital I took her back again to Notting Hill, promising to keep her well-informed of Jack's condition. He had returned to consciousness, therefore there was now a faint hope for his recovery.
Day succeeded day, and although I was not allowed to visit my friend, I was told that he was
