Her wide, light blue eyes returned his scrutiny, and for an instant each studied the other.
“There is something wrong,” she nodded, at last, “What you going to do, Doctor?”
“I’m going to get in. I’ve wasted precious time already.” He ran down the stairs and opening the front door summoned his chauffeur.
“Come up here, Chris,” he ordered, and the two returned together.
“Can we break in that door?” he said, ignoring the woman now.
“My husband’ll help,” she volunteered, but Chris was already delivering effective blows.
However, the lock held, and turning to her, Doctor Davenport said, “Do ask your husband to help us, please. I assure you it’s an emergency. I’m Doctor Ely Davenport.”
“Come here, Jim,” she obeyed orders. “This is Doctor Davenport.”
“I’ve heard of you,” said a big, commonplace looking man, appearing. “I’m Mansfield. What’s up?”
“I have reason to think Mr Gleason is very ill. He just telephoned for me. I must get in. These old doors are strongly built, so I’d like your help.”