"_From_, did you say? That's right! He was to have been operated on
to-day." The doctor shrugged his shoulders.

"What!"

"Two broken ribs. One grown fast to the lung."

"Wh-ew!"

"He just walked out. Said I had ordered him to have fresh air. There was a
new hall-boy, a greenhorn."

"He can't go far in that shape, can he?"

"Oh, there's no telling. The constitution of those men is beyond anything.
You can't kill him. He'll suffer of course, suffer like an animal, and die
like one--away from the herd. Maybe not this time, though."

"Was he afraid of the operation?"

"I can't say. He did not seem to be either afraid or anxious for help. Not
used to being helped. He would be taken to the Sisters' Hospital. Wouldn't
come up here as the guest of the Post, not a bit! I believe from the first
he meant to give us the slip, and take his chance in his own way."

"Did you hear,"--Mrs. Creve spoke up from the opposite side of the room
under that hypnotic influence by which a dangerous topic spreads,--"did
you hear about the poor guide who ran away from the hospital to escape
from our wicked doctor here? What a reputation you must have, Doctor!"