At last, however, an upper window was thrown up, and the voice of Dr. Hartley asked:
“Who’s there?”
“It is I, Dr. Hartley. It is I, Margaret Helmstedt! come to you on a matter of life and death!”
“You! You, Margaret! You, at this hour! I am lost in wonder!”
“Oh, come down, quickly, quickly, or it will be too late!”
Evidently believing this to be an imminent necessity for his professional services, the doctor drew in his head, let down the window, hastily donned his apparel, and came down to admit his visitor.
Leading her into the sitting-room, he said:
“Now, my dear, who is ill? And what, in the name of all the saints, was the necessity of your coming out at this time of night with the messenger?”
“Dr. Hartley, look at me well. I came with no messenger. I left the island at midnight, and crossed the bay, and came up the river alone.”
“Good Heaven, Miss Helmstedt! Margaret! what is it you tell me? What has happened?” he asked, terrified at the strange words and the ghastly looks of the girl.