Carlyon’s brows rose in slight surprise, but he said, “He is very welcome. Desire him to come in here, Barrow!”
“Why, yes, certainly!” said Francis. “I shall be only too glad to subordinate my claims to Mrs. Cheviot’s, but you must know that he is coming to see me, my dear Carlyon. I caught one of my putrid sore throats at poor Eustace’s funeral. I was sadly afraid I should do so for there was a dreadfully sharp wind blowing, and I should not at all wonder at it if the damp came through my boots while we stood round that depressing grave. I have scarcely closed my eyes all night, I assure you, for the least thing is so apt to bring on my tic, and you know that I have had a great deal to bear. And now this brutal shock coming hard upon the distressing news of my poor dear Louis! But I should not like to be thought selfish, and certainly the worthy doctor—I dare say an old-fashioned person, but he may at all events be able to make me up a paregoric draft that will not quite poison me—certainly he shall first come to Mrs. Cheviot.”
By the time he had reached the end of this self-sacrificing speech, the doctor was already in the room and bowing to Carlyon. Francis waved a languid hand toward the sofa, and said, “You will be so good as to attend to Mrs. Cheviot, sir, before you come up to my room. I shall leave you now, ma’am, in the fervent hope that you will soon find yourself greatly amended. Ah, Barrow, send Crawley to me, if you please! I shall need his arm to help me up the stairs. Indeed, I cannot imagine why he is not at hand. How callous! It is beyond everything!”
The doctor stared after him in blank bewilderment, and then turned his eyes toward Nicky, in a look of inquiry.
“Ay, that’s the fellow you have to hustle out of this house,” said Nicky frankly.
Carlyon interposed, saying quietly, “You are come just when you are wanted, Greenlaw. Mrs. Cheviot has suffered a fall and has bruised her head painfully. Pray do what you can to render her more comfortable! I’ll leave you, ma’am, for the present.”
She opened her eyes, at that. “Lord Carlyon, if you leave this house before I have had the opportunity of speaking to you, it will be the most monstrous thing ever I heard of or had thought possible—even in you!” she declared roundly.
“I have no intention of doing so, Mrs. Cheviot. I will return when Greenlaw has done what he may for you. Come, Nicky!”
Nicky allowed himself to be led from the room. He was plainly bursting with something he wanted to say and could hardly wait until he had dragged his brother into the parlor and firmly shut the door before he exclaimed, “Ned! I see it all! You were right!”
“Was I? In what way?”