"You are sure it was not a dream?"

He looked at her almost fiercely.

"Dream? Could a man dream a thing like that?"

"Don't be cross with me, dear Mark," she said, laying her cheek against his. "It seems so strange, and you have been very, very ill. My own darling brother!"

It was not jealousy, but something very near akin, that troubled Rich as she stood there, with an intense longing to take her friend's place, after the long parting. But there was the recollection that their parting had not been the warm passionate embracing of lovers, only calm and full of the hope of what might be.

Janet continued:

"And you went late at night through a dreadful fog, and took refuge with a friend?"

"Yes," he said, with his features contracting, and a shudder passing through him, as he gazed furtively at Rich.

"And what can you recollect besides? Are you sure you had what you say--diamonds and money?"

"Yes, I am certain."

"I never wore diamonds," said Janet, with her pretty white forehead growing more puckered, "and I don't want any; but after being so poor, and with one's dearest friends so poor, and when it would make every one so happy, I should like you to find them again."

Mark uttered a low groan.

"But tell me, Mark, what else can you recollect?"

"Very little," he said. "It all seems misty; but I recollect drinking something."

"Brandy, Mark?"

"Yes; and afterwards a medicine that was to calm him, for I was half mad with excitement."

"Yes; go on."

"Then everything is confused: I seemed to fall asleep--a long restful sleep, that was broken by my taking a long journey."

"Yes, but that was dreaming, dear."

"Maybe," he said, "and then I was swimming--swimming for life--and then toiling on and on, a long weary journey under a hot sun to get my diamonds."

"Yes, dear, fever," said Janet, with the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, Mark, what you have suffered! Rich, love, do you hear?"

"Yes--yes," cried Rich, who seemed to be roused from a strange dream, in which she was fighting to recall another of which she had a misty recollection--a dream that troubled her on the night she took the chloral, when half mad with pain.

"You have seen and borne so much, dear," said Janet piteously. "Was not all this about the bag of diamonds and those people a feverish dream?"

"Jenny, do you want to drive me mad?"

"My own dear old darling brother, no," she whispered caressingly; and once more that strange half-jealous feeling swept like a hot breath of wind across Rich, making her pale face flush. "I only want to make you see things rightly, and not fret about a fancy."

"I tell you it was no fancy," he said angrily; and then, as the nurse held up a warning hand. "All right," he added, "I'll be calm."

"Say something to him, Rich," said Janet piteously.

Rich started, and then took Mark's hand. "You say that you went to the house of a friend?" she whispered.

"Ye-es," he replied hesitatingly.

"And that you partook of some medicine that was to make you sleep?"

He bowed his head slowly.

"And that your next clear recollection is of lying here, where you were brought after being found delirious by the police?"

"Yes, yes," he said impatiently.

"Robbed?"

"Stripped of everything," he said bitterly.

"It could not have been a friend, then, with whom you took refuge," said Rich.

Mark was silent.

"Must it not have been a dream?" said Janet in a whisper to her companion.

"No," said Rich aloud. "I think that all Mark recollects before he took this medicine must be true, and that this friend must have drugged him."

Mark drew a long, catching breath between his teeth.

"And robbed him while he slept."

Mark's breast rose and fell as if he were suffering some great emotion, and he stared at Rich wildly, his hand twitching and his lip quivering as he waited for her next speech, which seemed to crush him, as she asked in a clear firm voice.

"Who was the friend to whose house you went?"

He looked at her wildly, with the thoughts of the consequences of telling her that which he believed to be the truth--that Dr Chartley-- her father--the father of the woman he passionately loved--had drugged him--taken the treasure for which he had fought so hard, and then cast him forth feverish and delirious into the river to die. For he realised it now: he had been swimming; he could even recall the very plunge; he had been cast into the river to drown, and somehow he must have struggled out.

"Who was the friend, Mark?" she said again, in her calm firm way.

"Yes, who was it?" cried Janet, with her little lips compressed. "You are right, Rich. Some one did do this dreadful thing. Who was it, Mark?"

The sick man turned from her with a shudder, while she, all excitement now, pressed his hard hand.

"Tell us, Mark dear, that he may be punished, and made to restore what he has stolen."

"No, no!" he said excitedly; "I cannot tell you--I do not know."

"Try and recollect, Mark," said Rich gently; and she looked in his face with an appealing smile.