The night-bell of Ellis's was ringing furiously, and Mrs. Basket, putting down the tray, squeezed through the door as hurriedly as her unwieldy form permitted. As the tail of her blue skirt whisked out of sight, Cass jumped up from the sofa and smote the doctor's shoulder.
"Here is your first patient, Bob. Fortune is knocking at the door!"
"Ringing, you mean," said Ellis, joking, to hide his agitation.
As he spoke, the voice of Mrs. Basket was heard in wordy expostulation, and a light-footed visitor flitted along the passage and into the room. The new-comer proved to be a woman, young and pretty, bareheaded, and apparently wild with terror. Her entrance and appearance were dramatic.
"The doctor!" she gasped, leaning against the door-post to support her trembling limbs.
"I am a doctor," said Ellis, advancing. "What is it?"
"My husband--my husband is--dead!" She paused with a catching in the throat, then her voice leaped to alto: "Murdered!"
"Murdered!" exclaimed both men, with a simultaneous movement forward.
"Murdered, in the garden! Doctor, come! come!"
"Who is your husband?" stammered Ellis, his wits not quite under control. "What is his name?"