The following week Tredennis arrived at the house one evening to find it in some confusion. The coupé of a prominent medical man stood before the pavement, and the servant who opened the door looked agitated.
"The professor, sir," he said, "has had a fall. We hope he aint much hurt, and Mr. Arbuthnot and the doctor are with him."
"Ask if I may go upstairs," said Tredennis; and, as he asked it, Arbuthnot appeared on the landing above, and, seeing who was below, came down at once.
"There is no real cause for alarm," he said, "though he has had a shock. He had been out, and the heat must have been too much for him. As he was coming up the steps he felt giddy and lost his footing, and fell. Doctor Malcolm is with him, and says he needs nothing but entire quiet. I am glad you have come. Did you receive my message?"
"No," answered Tredennis. "I have not been to my room."
"Come into the library," said Arbuthnot. "I have something to say to you."
He led the way into the room, and Tredennis followed him, wondering. When they got inside Arbuthnot turned and closed the door.
"I suppose," he said, "you know no more certainly than I do where Mr. Amory is to be found." And as he spoke he took a telegram from his pocket.
"What is the matter?" demanded Tredennis. "What has"—
"This came almost immediately after the professor's accident," said Arbuthnot. "It is from Mrs. Amory, asking him to come to her. Janey is very ill."