'Well, my dear miss, what can I do for you, eh?' he asked, beaming at her over the gold rims of his double eyeglass in a very reassuring way.
'Please, my uncle has sent me to ask you to come and see him at once, as he is very ill.'
'And who is your uncle, my dear? It will be necessary for you to tell me that,' he said, with the slightest suggestion of a twinkle in his eye.
'My uncle, Mr. Graham, who lives in Colquhoun Street.'
'Abel Graham? Oh yes. Is he ill? And, bless me, are you his niece?'
Never was surprise so genuinely felt or expressed as at that moment by Mr. Fordyce.
'Yes, I am his niece; and, please, could you come as soon as possible? He is very ill. I am afraid he thinks he is dying.'
The girl's voice trembled, and a tear fell like a dew-drop from her long eyelashes. These things still more amazed the soul of Mr. Fordyce. That anybody should shed a tear for a being so sordid and unsociable as Abel Graham struck him as one of the extraordinary things he had met with in his career; and to see this fair young creature, fitted by nature for a sphere and for companionship so different, sincerely grieving for the old man's distress, seemed the most extraordinary thing of all. Mr. Fordyce rose, and, calling the boy, bade him bring a cab to the door, then he began to get into his greatcoat.
'I'll drive you back, if you have nowhere else to go. So you are his niece? Well, there's more sense and shrewdness in the old man than I gave him credit for.'
These remarks were, of course, quite enigmatical to Gladys; but she felt cheered and comforted by the strong, kindly presence of the genial old lawyer. As for him, he regarded her with a mixture of lively interest, real compassion, and profound surprise. Perhaps the latter predominated. He had, in the course of a long professional career, encountered many strange experiences, become familiar with many curious and tragic life stories, but, he told himself, he had never met a more interesting case than this.