He had come to Sparrow Hall. He saw the tall, black chimney against a mass of stars--it seemed to be canting a little, perhaps that was part of the dream. There was a light in Len's room, and the next moment some one moved between it and the window.
His voice rose with the scents of the garden, in the hush of the night. The next minute there were footsteps on the stairs, then the door flew open, and Janey was in Nigel's arms.
They clung together for several moments. The door had slammed in the draught, and the darkness crept softly round them like an embrace. The dream slipped from Nigel--his silly and hideous nightmare of stars. This quivering, tear-stained woman in his arms had brought him into the reality of sorrow.
"Where is he?--what's happened?" he asked, still holding Janey.
"He's upstairs in bed--he's very ill, Nigel."
"Not much--he's got pneumonia. It's dreadful."
"Yes--he's been gone only an hour. He said you were to be sent for at once. Oh, Nigel, Nigel, it's my fault!"
"I was wretched and selfish--he'd been queer all the afternoon, and I didn't notice it. I thought only of myself. Then he went out while I was asleep, and when he came back.... Oh, Nigel!... the doctor says he practically did for himself by going out then."
Nigel did not understand, but his mind made no effort to grasp at details.
"I'd better go at once," he said; "is he conscious?"
"Yes--but he says funny things sometimes."
She led the way upstairs, and the next minute they were in Leonard's room. It was a queer little room, extremely low, with bulging walls, sagging beams and an uneven floor. Len lay propped very high with pillows. His face was drawn and feverish--he was literally fighting for his breath, and his lips were blue.
"Hullo, old man!... good of you to come.... Lord!"--as he saw his clothes--"put me among the nuts."
Len pointed to a glass of water by the bed. Janey gave him a drink. He began to cough violently, and his face became purple. Nigel felt sick.
"I--I'm better," gasped Leonard. "I--I had ... a beastly stitch ... but it's gone."
"When's the doctor coming again?" Nigel asked Janet.
"Oh, no!" cried Len; "you and Janey can manage me ... between you ... I'll soon be all right ... I don't want any little Tottie Coughdrop fussing round."