"I'll go and see who it is," Mangan said, quietly. "Meanwhile you must
lie perfectly quiet and still, Linn, and be sure that everything will
come right."
In the next room, at the open door, he found the reporter of a daily
newspaper which was in the habit of devoting a column every Monday
morning to music and musicians. He was bidden to enter. He said he
wished to have the last authentic news of the condition of the popular
young baritone, for of course there would be some talk, especially in
"the profession," about Mr. Moore's non-appearance on the preceding
night.
"Well," said Maurice, in an undertone, "don't publish anything alarming,
you know, for he has friends and relatives who are naturally anxious.
The fever has increased somewhat; that is the usual thing; a nervous
fever must run its course. And to-night he has been slightly
delirious--"
"Oh, delirious?" said the reporter, with a quick look.
"Slightly--slightly--just wandering a little in his feverishness. I
wouldn't make much of it. The public don't care for medical details.
When the crisis of the fever comes, there will be something more
definite to mention."
"If all goes well, when do you expect he will be able to return to the
New Theatre?"
"That," said Maurice, remembering Miss Burgoyne's hint, "it is quite
impossible to say.
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