I have
had several London correspondents here this afternoon."
"All over the country?" Lionel repeated, absently, and then he lay still
for a second or two. "No use--no use!" he moaned, in so low a voice that
Mangan could hardly hear. And then again he looked up wearily.
"Come here, Maurice. I want to--to ask you something. If--if I were to
die--do you think--they would put it in any of the papers abroad?"
"Nonsense--what are you talking about?" Maurice exclaimed, in a
simulated anger. "Talking of dying--because you've got a feverish cold;
that's not like you, Linn! You're not going to frighten your people when
they come up from Winstead, by talking like that?"
"Don't let them come up," was all he said, and shut his eyes again.
Among the callers that afternoon who, learning that Mr. Mangan was
up-stairs, came personally to make inquiries, was Miss Burgoyne, who was
accompanied by her brother.
"What is the matter?" she said, briefly, to Maurice. "One never can
trust what is in the newspapers."
He told her.
"Serious?"
"That depends," he said, in a low voice, as they stood together at the
window. "I hope not. But I suppose the fever will have to run its
course.
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