"He will live--" "Thank God!" breathed Mr.Caryll.
"-- perhaps an hour," the doctor concluded, and never knew how near was Mr.Caryll to striking him.

He turned again to his patient, producing a probe.

"Very deplorable!" Mr.Caryll heard him muttering, parrot-like.
A pause ensued, and a silence broken only by occasional cluckings from the little doctor, and Mr.Caryll stood by, a prey to an anguish more poignant than he had ever known.

At last there was a groan from the wounded man.

Mr.Caryll started forward.
Sir Richard's eyes were open, and he was looking about him at the doctor, the valet, and, lastly, at his adopted son.