While Jonathan was conversing with Austin, from whom he took care to conceal the fact of his having seen Sheppard since his escape, Ireton entered the Lodge. “It was inevitable,” he declared. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. ’ ‘There is no need for this,’ he ventured mildly, and lifted his finger to show his own pistol was not cocked.
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