Capel’s Nurses.
“This is your doing, Dr Heston,” said Mr Girtle, returning to the dining-room, indignantly, with a card in his hand.
He had been seated at lunch with the doctor, Katrine, and Artis, when Preenham had entered the room, to say that a gentleman wished to see him on important business.
“I dare say it is,” said the doctor, “but what have I done?”
“We—the family—had decided to refrain from communication with the police, so as not to draw attention to the peculiar circumstances that have taken place in this house, and I agreed somewhat unwillingly, knowing Mr Capel’s feelings as to what has gone before.”
“Well,” said the doctor, coolly, for the old man seemed to have lost his self-control.
“No, sir, it is not well. Someone has communicated with the police.”
He held out the card in his hand, and Katrine winced, while Artis gave her an uneasy look.
“No work of mine, my dear sir; my hands are too full of my patient. Surely he does not say—”
“No, no,” said Mr Girtle, hurriedly. “I have not seen him yet. I was so angry that I returned at once. I really beg your pardon, but all this trouble has rather taken me off my balance.”