The doctor nodded comprehendingly. "Pretty weak yet," he confided to the nurse in a whisper. "Lost quite a bit of blood before I could get to him. Must humor him." David closed his eyes. Not, however, to sleep. Rather to listen to his tempter, who had returned to stand guard, to keep the victory it had won. But the imp's words were less plausible this morning, a certain sly malice had crept into his voice. David remembered shrinkingly the resolve he had taken. "It's because I am weak." He tried to stiffen himself. "I have a right to be happy. Why should two be made to suffer for one who wouldn't care?" He repeated that over and over to himself and almost achieved belief. The nurse came to his bedside. "I'm going out for my walk now. Ring this bell if you want anything, and one of the maids will come." He nodded and she left. A minute later he heard other steps coming into the room. "David--David!" said a voice over him. A compassionate voice that was near to breaking. He opened his eyes and, not easily, met Jonathan's. "I'm making a good deal of trouble. You should have let them take me to the hospital." "Hush, David! I wanted you to come here. Is the wound very painful?" "I've had toothaches that were worse." "It's like you to make light of it." "It isn't like me to make light of it. You've seen me and ought to know that. It's more like me to whine." "But it's serious." Jonathan shook his head gravely. "The doctor says, if the knife had gone an eighth of an inch deeper--" "They always say that, don't they? It didn't go an eighth of an inch deeper." "But it might have," Jonathan insisted. "David, why did you do it? Did you think a little money was worth such a risk?" David frowned petulantly. "I'm no hero. I didn't mean to take any risks. I just blundered in and was too stupid to get out. So I got hurt. It's a habit of mine." "Ah!" Jonathan understood the allusion. "David, can you forgive me? Yesterday I was thinking you--what you are not. I was bitter, not quite myself. I was blaming you for what you couldn't help and thinking you were going--" "Don't! Don't talk about that! I--" David turned his face to the wall. "I wish to God Smith's knife had gone deeper!" Jonathan started. "Smith! You say it was Smith? Then this happened because of me. I let myself get at odds with all the world and in that temper sent him from the shop. You have much to forgive me for, David." "That's pretty far-fetched, isn't it? If it's any consolation, I couldn't swear it was Smith. I only had a glimpse of him." "It is a consolation. Because now, if any one questions you about what happened, you needn't identify Smith. I hate to think of any man having to go to jail. Sin is its own punishment--and heavy enough. God knows! We must find Smith, David, and try to help him. You could help him most. When he knows that you, whom he hurt, are ready--"