"Ah, Brown!" exclaimed the younger man. "Back, I see."
"Good morning, sir," I muttered, and turning to Sir Charles I anxiously enquired after my master.
"Your master is much worse!" he replied, looking at me very keenly. "I expect the crisis to-night!"
"He will recover, sir, I hope. You will surely save him, Sir Charles!"
"I don't know!"
Mr. Sefton Dagmar took up his hat and left the room, throwing me a wink as he passed. "I think it's up to me to take a constitutional," he observed, by way of excusing his departure. "Au revoir, Sir Charles!"
"Au revoir!" returned the surgeon. His eyes had never left my face. He waited until we heard the street door close, then he said quietly: "And how is your mother, Brown?"
"She is dead, sir!" I spoke the words in a low, dull tone, but without attempting any exhibition of emotion. I knew better than to play such a game with the man before me.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he observed. "You'll want to attend her funeral, I suppose. When is she to be buried?"
"This afternoon, sir," I answered looking at the floor.