“Now, don’t exaggerate, Denton. It was only three.”
“I beg your pardon, ma’am; I only came to you three times. There were five other times when I woke him, and got him up to bed myself, so stupid and confused that he could only ask where Mr Saul was. They had been sitting in the study together when I went to bed, and he must have let Mr Saul out himself and then gone back and fallen asleep in his chair. A telegram, miss.”
Gertrude eagerly took the message, tore open the envelope, read, and passed it to Mrs Hampton who also read it anxiously.
“What do you mean? George did not come with me. He refused in your presence. Just off to Switzerland. Wire to Glacier Hotel, Chamounix.”
“You need not wait, Denton,” said Gertrude.
“No, miss; but might I make so bold: is there any news of—of the gentleman who said he was Mr George?”
“No, Denton; none at all.”
“And might I ask when Mr George is coming again?”
Gertrude looked at the old lawyer, who only looked close as one of his own tin boxes, so she transferred her gaze to the doctor, who fidgeted about beneath the inquiring eyes.
Gertrude rose from the table, laid her hand upon the old woman’s arm, and led her from the room.