At the same moment he felt a hand grasp his head, and Kingscourt whispered into his ear: "Fritz, if that little worm is restored, I will remain here always. I love the child. I will make this sacrifice for his restoration to health, as sure as I am Adelbert von Konigshoff."
Hour passed after hour. Fritz slept and slept. He slept himself into recovery. The night became morning, and with the rising of the sun, the hope increased. When they called Kingscourt to the child's bed, his eyes were clearer, and he shouted, "Otto! Otto!"
Friedrich then urged the old man to sleep, and added: "As to what you said in the corridor, let that be as if I never heard it."
"No, no!" said Kingscourt, proudly. "Then you do not know me, for when I have sworn, I have sworn. But first I want a long sleep, then we will see whether they will admit us into the New Community."
But even then, Friedrich did not know whether or not the old man was joking, It would please him very much to remain there, to become a useful member of the New Community, to work for the common good. It was a whispered dream, and there was something else which he could not yet admit to himself.
But Kingscourt kept his word, and the next day, when Fritz was declared on the road to convalescence and his mother was restored, for only anxiety had overcome her; Kingscourt decided to carry out his desire. And yet, he continued, in a way, to deny his love for the little boy. He admitted that he liked him as one likes a little animal, for Fritz was not a human being, so that an enemy of humanity was not inconsistent when he liked such a little child.
"I will excuse your explanation, Kingscourt," said Friedrich, "for the act pleases me. When shall we announce our desire to be admitted into the New Community?"
CHAPTER IV.
Having decided to act without loss of time, they visited President Eichenstamm, who had invited them, when he was in Haifa, and who they thought would best direct them as to their admission, as ordinary members, into the New Community.
His home they found to be one that reminded them of a Genoese palace. At the door they saw a motorcar, containing two old gentlemen and Professor Steineck. The Professor leaped out as he recognized his friends. He nodded as he passed— this was sufficient to gain them admission—and hurriedly disappeared into the house.
Kingscourt and Friedrich asked for Dr. Werkin, the president's private secretary. They were directed to an ante-room, and Kingscourt at once became impatient at delay.
"No, I won't do this. I won't serve in the forecourt for seven years. Talk to the slave, Fritz. Probably he has not announced us."
"There do not seem to be any slaves here," said Friedrich, laughing. "But I will speak to the typewriter."
The latter explained that Dr. Werkin had been in attendance on the president for two hours; he had suddenly become very ill.