To-day, what cared he as he lay there tossing feverishly on his bed, muttering his Greek verses and moaning over his sore throat, whose they were, and who touched them?
And to-morrow--?
Railsford pulled himself together half angrily.

A nice fellow, he, for a sick nurse?
Suddenly he came upon a desk with the key in the lock.

Perhaps this might contain the longed-for address.

He opened it and glanced inside.
It was empty.

No.