“I am awake, and will strike a light in a moment.”
She heard him stumbling about the room, and finally there was a crash, as of a broken vase or goblet.
“What is the matter? Can’t you find your matches?”
“No; some one has removed the box from its usual place, and I am fumbling about at random, and smashing things indiscriminately. Will you be so good as to bring me a match?”
“I have a candle in my hand, which you can take, while I order Elbert to get your buggy ready.”
“Thank you, Salome.”
She placed the candle on the mat before his door, laid the note beside it, and went down to the servants’ rooms to call the driver.
It was two o’clock, and Dr. Grey had come home only an hour before, from a patient who resided at some distance.
Dressing himself as expeditiously as possible, he read the blurred and crumpled note.
“Dr. Grey: For God’s sake come as quick as possible. I am afraid my mother is dying.
“Robert Maclean.”