“You can help yourself,” he said. “This seems to be his most recent work.”
Dr. Wilmot seemed scarcely to hear him. He had turned the lamp up with quick fingers, and was leaning over those freshly written pages. Decidedly he was interested in the case. He stood quite still reading with breathless haste—the papers seemed almost to fly through his fingers. Wolfenden was a little puzzled. Mr. Blatherwick, who had been watching the proceedings with blank amazement, rose and came over towards them.
“You will excuse me, Lord Wolfenden,” he said, “but if the admiral should come back and find a stranger with you looking over his work, he will——”
“It’s all right, Blatherwick,” Wolfenden interrupted, the more impatiently since he was far from comfortable himself. “This gentleman is a physician.”
The secretary resumed his seat. Dr. Wilmot was reading with lightning-like speed sheet after sheet, making frequent notes in a pocket-book which he had laid on the table before him. He was so absorbed that he did not seem to hear the sound of wheels coming up the avenue.
Wolfenden walked to the window, and raising the curtain, looked out. He gave vent to a little exclamation of relief as he saw a familiar dogcart draw up at the hall door, and Dr. Whitlett’s famous mare pulled steaming on to her haunches.
“It is Dr. Whitlett,” he exclaimed. “He has followed you up pretty soon.”
The sheet which the physician was reading fluttered through his fingers. There was a very curious look in his face. He walked up to the window and looked out.
“So it is,” he remarked. “I should like to see him at once for half a minute—then I shall have finished. I wonder whether you would mind going yourself and asking him to step this way?”