The young urchin was not long in bundling on his things.
Upon descending below he found his mistress in the front parlour.
“Go as quickly as possible to Doctor Garnet’s house, ring the night bell, and say I want to see him. We fear something has happened to Mr. Bourne. Do you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll run all the way.”
“Good lad, and mind you don’t return without Dr. Garnet,” cried Mrs. Bourne, seeing her messenger to the door.
Dr. Garnet lived but two streets off. He had been accustomed to attend to Bourne’s practice when that gentleman was away from home.
He was a little alarmed, however, upon being informed of the urgent nature of the case. He had seen Bourne a day or two before, and considered him to be in excellent health.
He was a little depressed, it is true, but nothing to speak of—certainly not to give rise to fears as to his health.
Garnet was a little fussy bald-headed gentleman, with a soft musical voice, and a conciliatory agreeable manner. He was very popular with the ladies, to whom he was at all times remarkably attentive.
“Dear me, this is a very sad business,” he ejaculated, as he proceeded to make a careful toilette, for Garnet made it a rule never to be caught en deshabille. “Very sad. Poor Mrs. Bourne, it must have greatly alarmed her. Did you say your master was insensible, my lad?”