Soon, ashamed of herself, Mrs. Baron rallied and would have returned; but at the door she was met by the Colonel, who sternly prohibited re-entrance. She bowed to his decision, trembling, as she did not always bow when her wishes were crossed. The people of the hotel, no whit less dismayed, insisted on Roy's instant removal. The question was, where could he go? Then it was that Denham Ivor came to the rescue. He had had small-pox; he had nursed a friend through it; he was, therefore, not only safe but also experienced. He would undertake the boy himself, allowing no other to enter the room. Neither Mrs. Baron nor Colonel Baron might again approach Roy, until all danger of infection was over. His steady manner and cheerful face brought comfort to everybody. He consulted with the hotel people, and heard of a certain Monsieur and Madame de Bertrand, members of the lesser _noblesse_ of past days, who lived in a street near, and who might be willing to take in him and Roy. Three years earlier they had both been inoculated, and had had the complaint. Their servant, too, was safe; and, since they had lost heavily in Revolution times, and were badly off, they might be glad thus to make a little money. Colonel Baron hastened to the house, ready to offer anything, and he was met kindly, matters being speedily arranged. Roy was then conveyed thither, wrapped in blankets, already much too ill to care what might be done with him. Colonel and Mrs. Baron remained at the hotel, to endure a long agony of suspense. The Colonel was, indeed, almost overcome with terror, not only for Roy, but also for his wife, lest she should already have caught the infection. As days passed this dread was proved to be groundless, and Roy was found to have the complaint on the whole mildly, though thoroughly. It was not a case of the awful "confluent" small-pox, of which fully half the number attacked generally died, but of the simple "discrete" kind. Though he had much of the eruption on his body, few pustules appeared on his face. There was a good deal of fever, and at times he wandered, calling for "Molly," and complaining that she was cross and would not answer him. More often he was dull and stupefied, saying little.