“Who has told you this—one of the servants?” Before he could be answered the two doors of the room flew open, Nurse Elisia entering hurriedly by one, Neil by the other.
Neither spoke; they read the trouble at a glance.
“Where is Alison?” said Ralph Elthorne, speaking as if his son were a little boy about to be punished. “Fetch him here.”
“My dear father,” said Neil firmly, “you are exciting yourself. I must insist—”
“Fetch Alison.”
The command was so fiercely given that, seeing it would be better to comply than oppose his father and, perhaps, bring on some terrible seizure, Neil frowned and withdrew, while his father turned to Nurse Elisia.
“Go to your room now,” he said. “I will speak to you presently. My sons first.”
“Mr Elthorne—for your own sake—pray be calm.”
“To your room,” he cried hoarsely. “Wait.” The nurse looked wildly from one sister to the other, and a pang of jealousy shot through them as they saw it was no common woman who had stepped between them and the smooth, even course of their fate. Then, after another imploring glance at Elthorne, she slowly left the room.
There was a deep silence, only broken by the heavy, stertorous breathing of the invalid, till steps were heard, the door was opened, and the brothers entered, Neil closing the door behind them.