“Very well; then I will sit in the other room; perhaps you would rather be alone. I will leave the door ajar, in case you call me.” “Please don't trouble about it; I really shan't want anything. I should be wasting your time for nothing.” “Nonsense, man!” Martini broke in roughly. “What's the use of trying to fool me that way? Do you think I have no eyes? Lie still and go to sleep, if you can.” He went into the adjoining room, and, leaving the door open, sat down with a book. Presently he heard the Gadfly move restlessly two or three times. He put down his book and listened. There was a short silence, then another restless movement; then the quick, heavy, panting breath of a man clenching his teeth to suppress a groan. He went back into the room. “Can I do anything for you, Rivarez?” There was no answer, and he crossed the room to the bed-side. The Gadfly, with a ghastly, livid face, looked at him for a moment, and silently shook his head. “Shall I give you some more opium? Riccardo said you were to have it if the pain got very bad.” “No, thank you; I can bear it a bit longer. It may be worse later on.” Martini shrugged his shoulders and sat down beside the bed. For an interminable hour he watched in silence; then he rose and fetched the opium. “Rivarez, I won't let this go on any longer; if you can stand it, I can't. You must have the stuff.” The Gadfly took it without speaking. Then he turned away and closed his eyes. Martini sat down again, and listened as the breathing became gradually deep and even. The Gadfly was too much exhausted to wake easily when once asleep. Hour after hour he lay absolutely motionless. Martini approached him several times during the day and evening, and looked at the still figure; but, except the breathing, there was no sign of life. The face was so wan and colourless that at last a sudden fear seized upon him; what if he had given too much opium? The injured left arm lay on the coverlet, and he shook it gently to rouse the sleeper. As he did so, the unfastened sleeve fell back, showing a series of deep and fearful scars covering the arm from wrist to elbow. “That arm must have been in a pleasant condition when those marks were fresh,” said Riccardo's voice behind him. “Ah, there you are at last! Look here, Riccardo; ought this man to sleep forever? I gave him a dose about ten hours ago, and he hasn't moved a muscle since.” Riccardo stooped down and listened for a moment. “No; he is breathing quite properly; it's nothing but sheer exhaustion--what you might expect after such a night. There may be another paroxysm before morning. Someone will sit up, I hope?” “Galli will; he has sent to say he will be here by ten.” “It's nearly that now. Ah, he's waking! Just see the maidservant gets that broth hot. Gently--gently, Rivarez! There, there, you needn't fight, man; I'm not a bishop!”