This idea so alarmed him that he arose hastily to see if his limbs would support him, and fell back in his chair with a subdued shriek as the shrill tones of an electric bell rang through the room.
"The front-door bell," he said, peevishly. "Oh, my nerves! I must really have the sound softened. I wonder who wants to see me. I won't be seen. Who is it?"
This question was addressed to Mr. Gimp, who had entered the room in his usual stealthy manner, and now handed his master two cards.
"Mr. Roger Axton and Mr. Octavius Fanks," read Spolger, slowly. "I can't see them, Gimp, I really can't. The action of the drops demands perfect quiet."
"The gentlemen have druv from town, sir."
"Well, they must just drive back again," said his master, crossly. "My compliments, Gimp, and I'm too ill to see them."
Gimp obediently retreated, but shortly afterwards returned with a curt message.
"Mr. Axton ses he must see you, sir."
"Oh, dear, dear!" moaned Spolger, irritably, "those healthy people have no consideration for an invalid. Well, if I must, Gimp, I must. But I see them under protest. Let them understand distinctly—under protest."
Gimp once more disappeared, and on his reappearance ushered in Axton and Fanks, whom Mr. Spolger received with peevish politeness.