He saw
Ingolby's face turn grey, and then become white as death itself.
"I see," came from the bluish-white lips, as the stricken man made call
on all the will and vital strength in him.
For a long minute Rockwell held the cold hand in the grasp of one who
loves and grieves, but even so the physician and surgeon in him were
uppermost, as they should be, in the hour when his friend was standing on
the brink of despair, maybe of catastrophe irremediable. He did not say
a word yet, however. In such moments the vocal are dumb and the blind
see.
Ingolby heaved himself in the bed and threw up his arms, wresting them
from Rockwell's grasp.
"My God--oh, my God-blind!" he cried in agony. Rockwell drew the head
with the sightless eyes to his shoulder.
For a moment he laid one hand on the heart, that, suddenly still, now
went leaping under his fingers. "Steady," he said firmly. "Steady. It
may be only temporary. Keep your head up to the storm. We'll have a
specialist, and you must not get mired till then. Steady, Chief."
"Chief! Chief!" murmured Ingolby. "Dear God, what a chief! I risked
everything, and I've lost everything by my own vanity.
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