“He went to smoke in the study,” said Claude quietly.
The doctor turned round sharply.
“To burn vegetable alkaloid for his digestive function,” said Mary.
At that moment there was a step in the hall, and Glyddyr came in, looking rather sallow.
“Just in time, Mr Glyddyr,” said the doctor; “we are going to have a song.”
“Indeed?” said Glyddyr. “I am very glad.”
“When I marry—that is, if I marry,” said the doctor—“What delicious tea. A little too strong. Miss Gartram, would you kindly—a drop of milk—I mean cream. Thanks. What was I saying? Oh! I remember. When I marry—if I marry—I shall ask a lady who is a clever musician to share my lot. By the way, is Mr Gartram coming?”
“Sound asleep still,” said Glyddyr quickly. “I spoke to him when I finished my cigar, but he didn’t reply.”
“Not well, Mr Glyddyr?” said the doctor, between two sips of his tea.
“Well, really, to be frank,” said Glyddyr hastily, “I don’t think I am quite the thing. That last cigar was of a peculiar brand, I suppose, one I was not accustomed to; and if you will excuse me, Miss Gartram, I will say good-night.”