"Well, where was he taking you to?" the manager asked impatiently. "Surely there must be someone I can send to."
"I believe that he has a house in London," the child said. "I really do not know anything more. You could send to Madame Richard at the Convent St. Argueil. I suppose she knows all about him. She told me that I was to consider him my guardian."
The manager turned to me. I was an occasional customer, and he knew who I was.
"Can you tell me anything about him, Mr. Greatson? The doctor will be here in a moment, but I feel that I ought to be sending for some of his friends. I am afraid that he is very ill."
"You were not in the room at the time it happened?" I remarked.
The manager shook his head.
"No, I was in the office."
"Have you sent for the police?" I asked.
"Police, no!" he exclaimed. "What have the police to do with it? It was an ordinary fit, surely."
I felt that I had held my peace long enough.