"Benito," he said. "Don't you know me? It's Adrian!"
Brown with a lighted lamp came nearer, so that Stanley saw the
sufferer's eyes. They were incognizant of realities. The murmuring voice
droned on, fretfully, "I've looked for her everywhere. She's
gone! gone!"
Suddenly he cried out: "Alice! Alice!" half rising. But he tumbled back
upon the pillow with a swift collapse of weakness and his words waned
into mumbled incoherence.
"Benito," Adrian addressed him earnestly, "Alice is with me. With me and
Inez. She's safe. I'll bring her to you in the morning. Do you
understand?"
"With you--with Inez?" the sick man repeated. "Then tell her to come. I
want her. Tell Alice to come--"
"Tomorrow," Dr. Jones said, soothingly, "when you've had a chance to
rest."
"No, tonight," the fevered eyes stared up at them imploringly. Jones
drew Adrian aside. "Pretend you'll do it or hell wear himself out. Then
go. I'll give him something that will make him sleep." He emptied a
powder in a tumbler of water and held it out to the sick man. "Drink
this," he ordered, "it'll give you strength to see Miss Burthen."
Benito's lips obediently quaffed the drink. His head lay quieter upon
the pillow.
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