Lily's eye flashed, but grew soft again.
"Don't let her know that you have told me," she said. "Oh, poor Jack!"
Jack turned to her again quickly.
"Lily, do you think she will die?" he asked. "And will it be that which killed her?"
"Don't say such things, Jack," said Lily firmly. "You have no right to say or think them yet. We must hope for the best. Dr. Ferguson will certainly tell us as soon as he knows."
For another half-hour they sat there, the most part in silence. Lily took up a book, but did not read it; Jack sat at a table beginning letter after letter, and tearing them up again, and all waited in the grip of sickening, quaking suspense for the doctor's report. Footsteps, which at such times fall with a muffled sound, moved about the house, and occasionally the ceiling jarred with the reverberation of a step in Kit's room, which was overhead. Lunch was announced, but still none of them moved. At last a heavy footstep came downstairs, the door of the smoking-room opened, and Dr. Ferguson entered.
"It is a very grave case," he said quietly. "I should like another opinion, Lord Conybeare."
Jack had faced round in his chair, and sat for a moment in silence, biting the end of his pen. His hands were perfectly steady, but one of his eyebrows kept twitching, and the colour was struck from his face.
"Please telegraph, or send a carriage to whomever you wish for," he said.
"A hansom will be quickest," said Dr. Ferguson, "unless you have horses already in. Excuse me, I will write a note."