“Come down, Miss Claude, at once.”
“Ah! Woodham? How is he?”
“Don’t ask me, my dear, but make haste down. You may be wanted. Doctor Asher wishes me to go and fetch Doctor Rixton.”
“But why? What for?”
“Miss Claude, dear, don’t ask me,” said the woman, in suffocating tones, as she turned slowly away.
Claude hurriedly followed her down toward the study door, where she stood trembling for a few moments, feeling that there had then been a meaning in the portent which had troubled her that night. Then, turning the handle, she went into the room.
“Well, back so soon?” said the doctor, whose face was from her. “Is he coming?”
“Doctor Asher.”
“You, Miss Gartram!” he said, in a hoarse whisper, as he turned sharply round. “What is it? Why have you come?”
“Woodham called me. What is the matter? Is he worse?”