Part 16 (2/2)

”What's the matter, old man?” he repeated. ”Tell me. Shall I send for a doctor?”

Somehow or other I knew the state I was in. I knew it was Johnson, yet it all seemed unreal to me. With a great effort I gathered all my scattered wits and managed to shout out, ”Telegraph Kennedy--Rockledge.”

By this time Johnson himself was thoroughly alarmed. He did not lose a second in dictating a telegram over the telephone.

At about the same time, up at Rockledge, Kennedy and Elaine, with her cousin Mary Brown, were starting out for a horseback ride through the hills. They were chatting gaily, but Kennedy was forcing himself to do so.

In fact, they had scarcely gone half a mile when Kennedy, who was riding between the two and fighting off by sheer nerve the illness he felt, suddenly fell over in half a faint on the horse's neck. Elaine and Mary reined up their horses.

”Why, Craig,” cried Elaine, startled, ”what's the matter?”

The sound of her voice seemed to arouse him. He braced up. ”Oh, nothing, I guess,” he said with a forced smile. ”I'm all right.”

It was no use, however. They had to cut short the ride, and Kennedy returned to the house, glad to drop down in an easy chair on the porch, while Elaine hovered about him solicitously. His head buzzed, his skin was hot and dry, his eyes had an unnatural look. Every now and then he would place his hand to his ear as though he felt some pain.

They had already summoned the country doctor, but it took him some time to get out to the house. Suddenly a messenger boy rode up on his bicycle and mounted the porch steps. ”Telegram for Mr. Kennedy,” he announced, looking about and picking out Craig naturally as the person he wanted.

Kennedy nodded and took the yellow envelope while Elaine signed for it.

Listlessly he tore it open. It read:

CRAIG KENNEDY,

c/o Wellington Brown, Rockledge, N. J.

Jameson very ill. Wants you. Better come.

JOHNSON.

The message seemed to rouse Kennedy in spite of his fever. His face showed keen alarm, which he endeavored to conceal from Elaine. But her quick eye had caught the look.

”I must see Walter,” he exclaimed, rising rather weakly and going into the house.

How he ever did it is still, I think, a mystery to him, but he managed to pack up and, in spite of the alternating fever and chills, made the journey back to the city.

When at last Craig arrived at our apartment, it must have seemed to him that he found me almost at death's door. I was terribly ill and weak by that time, but had refused to see the doctor again and Johnson had managed to get me into bed.

Ill himself, Kennedy threw himself down for a moment exhausted. ”When did this thing come on Walter?” he asked of Johnson.

”Yesterday, I think, at least as nearly as I can find out,” replied our friend.

Craig was decidedly worried. ”There's only one person in New York to call on,” he murmured, pulling himself out of bed and getting into the living-room as best he could.

”Is that you, G.o.dowski?” he asked over the telephone. ”Well, doctor, this is Kennedy. Come over to my apartment, quick. I've a case--two cases for you.”

G.o.dowski was a world-famous scientist in his line and had specialized in bacteriology, mainly in tropical diseases.

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