Walden was instantly all earnest attention.
"Who is Santori?" he asked.
"Santori," replied Forsyth, "is a great Italian, whose scientific researches into medicine and surgery have won him the honour of all nations, save and except the British. We are very insular, my dear Walden!--we never will tolerate the 'furriner' even if he brings us health and healing in his hand! Santori is a medical 'furriner,' therefore he is generally despised by the English medical profession. But I'm a Scotsman--I've no prejudices except my own!" And he laughed--"And I acknowledge Santori as one of the greatest men of the age. He is a scientist as well as a surgeon--and his great 'speciality' is the spine and nerves. Now I have never quite explained to you the nature of Miss Vancourt's injuries, and there is no need even now to particularise them. The main point of her case is that in the condition she is now, she must remain a cripple for life,--and" here he hesitated,--"that life cannot, I fear, be a very long one."
Walden turned his head away for a moment.
"Go on!" he said huskily.
"At the same time," continued Dr. Forsyth, gently--"there are no bones broken,--all the mischief is centred in damage to the spine. I sent, as you know, for Wentworth Glynn, our best specialist in this country, and he assured me there was no hope whatever of any change for the better. Yesterday, I happened to see in the papers that Santori had arrived in London for a few weeks, and, acting on a sudden inspiration, I wrote him a letter at once, explaining the whole case, and asking him to meet me in consultation. He has wired an answer to-day, saying he will be here to-morrow."
Walden's eyes were full of sorrowful pain and yearning.
"Well!" he said, with a slight sigh--"And what then?"
"What then?" responded Dr. 'Jimmy' cheerfully--"Why nothing,--except that it will be more satisfactory to everyone concerned,--and to me particularly--to have his opinion."
There was a pause. John gazed down into the fire as though he saw a whole world of mingled grief and joy reflected in its crimson glow. Then, suddenly lifting his head, he looked his friend full in the face.
"Forsyth,"--he said--"I think I ought to tell you--you ought to know--I am going to marry her!"
Without a word, 'Jimmy' gripped his hand and pressed it hard. Then he turned very abruptly, and walked up and down the little room. And presently he drew out his glasses and polished them vigorously though they were in no need of this process.