The Chestermarke Instinct by J.S. Fletcher

It was not until a week later that Neale, with a bandaged head and one arm in a sling, and Betty Fosdyke, inexpressibly thankful that the recent terrible catastrophe had at any rate brought relief in its train, were allowed to visit Horbury for their first interview of more than a few minutes' duration. Neale had made a quick recovery; beyond the fracture of a small bone in his arm, some cuts on his head, and a general shock to his system, he was little the worse for his experience. But the elder victim had suffered more severely; he had suffered, too, from a week's ill-treatment and starvation. Nevertheless, he managed an approving smile when the two young people were brought to his bedside, and he looked at them afterwards in a narrow and scrutinizing fashion, which made Betty redden and grow somewhat conscious.

"Not more than three-quarters of an hour at most, the nurse said," she remarked, as they sat down at the bedside. "So if you have anything to say, Uncle John, you must get it said within that."