There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. Suddenly he came to a stop, his mouth agape. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. He wanted to talk with the patient, test him variously; and he wanted to be alone with him while he put these tests. I want to know—just as much as I can. "You thank Heaven for the escape of the man who did his best to get your child's neck twisted. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. Do you mind talking to some one else. For a time I didn't know we'd ever find you.
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