“To ask him to go and attend upon a patient who is in a dying state. There: pray come away. Really, Mrs Milt, you must not interfere like this.”
“I tell you, sir, master don’t want to see patients, and he can’t come out; so you must send them away.”
“Really, Mrs Milt,” said Cousin Thompson, “this is insufferable. My good woman, you forget yourself.”
Every word reached North as he stood close to the door and realised that there was one woman ready to fight in his defence.
North stood there, with his hands clenched and his brow rugged, glaring angrily, for he well knew what this meant. The voices were heard retiring, and the sound of the dining-room door closing, and muffling them suddenly, told him as plainly as if he had seen that the housekeeper had followed Cousin Thompson into that room, where an angry altercation seemed to be in progress.
“Hah!” ejaculated the miserable man; “canting and unscrupulous to the end. He is keeping her in parley while his people do their work.”
He laughed bitterly, for at that moment the door was tried softly, and then there was a gentle tapping on the panel.
“May my money prove a curse to him, and the whole place constantly remind him of his treachery,” he muttered, as the soft tapping was repeated, and a low voice, which he did not recognise, said:
“Dr North—Dr North! Can I speak to you a minute?”
He made no answer, but drew back to the table.