This little incident had to be passed over as quietly
as possible on account of the feelings of the concertina player and the
others.
The door stood ajar, and in the adjoining room a professional nurse, in
cap and apron, sat reading a German newspaper. This also was a bedroom.
The cottage was, in point of fact, the hospital of the malgamite
workers. The nurse, whose services had not hitherto been wanted, had
since the inauguration of the works spent some pleasant weeks at a
pension at Scheveningen. She read her newspaper very philosophically,
and waited.
Roden it was who watched the patient. The dying man never heeded him,
but looked persistently towards Von Holzen. The expression of his eyes
indicated that if they had had a language in common he would have
spoken to him. Roden saw the direction of the man's glance, and perhaps
read its meaning. For Percy Roden was handicapped with that greatest of
all drags on a successful career--a soft heart. He could speak harshly
enough of the malgamiters as a class, but he was drawn towards this
dumb individual, with a strong desire to effect the impossible. Von
Holzen had not promised that there should be no deaths. He had merely
undertaken to reduce the dangers of the malgamite industry gradually
and steadily until they ceased to exist. He had, moreover, the strength
of mind to give to this incident its proper weight in the balance of
succeeding events.
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