"They were both
French--and Rogers spoke of the red lips; somehow it seemed probable.
Mr. Grady will find some things he doesn't know in to-morrow's
_Record_. But then he usually does. This time, I'm going to rub it
in. Hello," he added, "our friend is coming around."
I looked at Rogers and saw that his eyes were open. They were staring
at us as though wondering who we were. Godfrey passed an arm under
his head and held the glass of water to his lips.
"Take a swallow of this," he said, and Rogers obeyed mechanically,
still staring at him over the rim of the glass, "How do you feel?"
"Pretty weak," Rogers answered, almost in a whisper. "Did I have a
fit?"
"Something like that," said Godfrey, cheerfully; "but don't worry.
You'll soon be all right again."
"What sent me off?" asked Rogers, and stared up at him. Then his face
turned purple, and I thought he was going off again. But after a
moment's heavy breathing, he lay quiet. "I remember now," he said.
"Let me see that picture again."
I passed it to him. His hand was trembling so he could hardly take
it; but I saw he was struggling desperately to control himself, and
he managed to hold the picture up before his eyes and look at it with
apparent unconcern.
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