They talked on various subjects, and Heathman informed Mr. Baskerville that he would soon be a great-uncle. "Rupert's wife be going to have a babby--that's the last news. I heard it yester-eve at 'The White Thorn.'" "Is that so? They might have told me, you'd think. Yet none has. They kept it from me." "Holding it for a surprise; or maybe they didn't think 'twould interest you." "No doubt that was the reason," answered Humphrey. And then he spoke no more, but worked his own thoughts into a ferment of jealous bitterness until the village was reached. Arrived, he took no leave of Heathman, but forgot his presence and hastened to the inn. Nathan was standing at the door in his apron, and the brothers entered together. "What's this I hear?" said Humphrey as they entered the other's private chamber. "Well, I'm ill, to be frank. In fact, very ill. I'd hoped to hide it up till after the wedding; but my voice has pretty well gone, you see. Gone for good. You'll never hear it again. But that won't trouble you much--eh?" "I should have marked something wrong when last we met, no doubt. But you angered me a bit, and angry men are like drunken ones; their senses fail them. I didn't see or hear what had happed to you. Now I look and listen, I mark you're bad. What does the doctor say?" "'Tis what he don't say. But I've got it out of him. He took me to Plymouth a month ago--to some very clever man there. I've talked such a lot in my life that I deserve to be struck dumb--such a chatterbox as I have been." "Is that all?" "For the present. We needn't go beyond that. I shall soon get used to listening instead of talking. Maybe I'll grow wiser for it." "That wasn't all they told you?" Nathan looked round and shut the door which stood ajar behind them. "There's no hiding anything from you that you want to find out. As a matter of fact, I'm booked. I know it. 'Tis only a question of--of months--few or many. They give me time to put things as straight--as straight as I can." "So like as not they lie. You'll do better to go off to London while you may, and get the best opinion up there." "I would, if 'twas only to pleasure you. But that's no use now." "Can you let down your food easy?" Nathan shook his head. "I dare not eat in company no more," he said; "it's here." He put his hand to his throat and then drew it down. "You don't suffer, I hope?" Nathan nodded. "I can tell you, but I trust you not to let it out to any soul. We must have the wedding off cheerful and bright. I shall keep going till then, if I'm careful. Only a month now." "You ought to be lying up close, and never put your nose out this coarse weather."