On the morning that followed, another member of the Whiteoak family might have been seen ascending in the hotel lift, attended by a porter carrying a rather shabby suitcase. When they alighted, he limped vigorously after the man and knocked with impatience on the designated door. It was opened by Finch.
When the porter had been tipped and the door closed behind him, Renny swept his eyes over the boy and gave a grunt, half of satisfaction at beholding him, half of derision.
Finch, red in the face, drew a step nearer. The elder took him by the arm, then kissed him. Finch seemed to him little more grown up than Wakefield. Joy and pure love surged through Finch. Animal joy and love that made him want to leap on Renny and caress him roughly like a joyous dog. He stood still, grinning sheepishly.
"Where's Eden?" demanded Renny.
"In there." He nodded toward the next room. "Uncle Ernest's with him."
Ernest himself then entered. He looked white and drawn.
"Heavens above!" he exclaimed. "I'm thankful you've come," and he gripped Renny's hand.
"This is a pretty mess," said Renny. "Have you a doctor? How ill is he? What's the matter with him?"
"It is indeed," returned Ernest. "I don't know when I've been so upset. I called a doctor as soon as he was taken badly. I think he's a good one. He's got a German name, but I dare say he's all the cleverer for that." He braced himself and looked Renny in the eyes. "Renny, it's the boy's lungs. They're in a bad way. He's in great danger, the doctor says."
Renny's brow contracted. He set the point of his stick
