“I will make inquiries.”
The nurse went away, and Mark Heath lay in an agony of spirit which he could hardly control till her return, to announce that he had nothing whatever upon him in the way of bag or money when found by the police.
Mark lay as if stunned till the messenger returned with the intelligence that Miss Heath had left the lodgings indicated; that the people there were new, and could give no information whatever.
“But you have other friends,” said the nurse, as she looked down pityingly in the patient’s agitated face.
“Yes,” he said, “I have friends. Write for me to—”
He paused for a few moments, with a hysterical sob rising to his lips as he recalled how he had struggled to return to her wealthy, and had come back a beggar.
“Yes, to—”
The gently-spoken inquiry roused him, and he went on. “To Miss Richmond—”
“Richmond?” said the nurse, looking up inquiringly as she took down the name in a little memorandum-book.
“Miss Richmond Chartley, 27 Ramillies Street, Queen’s Square, Bloomsbury, to beg her to find and send my sister here.”