“Doctor Knatchbull! what is the matter—a fit?”
The trouble was culminating, for another voice was heard in the glass corridor.
“Papa! papa! here is Mr Vine. He walked home with me. I made him come in. Oh, what a shame to be at work so late!”
“Keep her—keep her back,” gasped Mrs Van Heldre, and then with a piteous sob she sank down by Van Heldre’s side.
“John, my husband! speak to me, oh, speak,” she moaned as she raised his head to her lap.
“Ah, you want Brother Luke to you, John Van,” cried Vine, as with Madelaine on his arm he came to the door of the inner room.
There was a moment’s silence, and then Madelaine uttered a wild cry, and ran to her father’s side.
“Good heavens! Crampton, what is it?” cried Vine excitedly,—“a fit?”
“No, sir, struck down by a villain—a thief—and that thief—”
Crampton stopped short in the midst of his excitement, for there was a heavy step now in the passage, and the sergeant of police and one of his men came in.