I found Mrs. MacDerry propped up in bed awaiting me. The bedroom, in the quick glance I took around it, seemed in keeping with the room below; then my attention centred on my patient. She was an old lady—sweet and fragile-looking as her own Sèvres china—and it needed but a glance to see that the fires were burning low. For Mrs. MacDerry the harbour was almost reached.
"It is good of you to come, Doctor——" She paused inquiringly.
"Morton is my name," I answered gently, drawing up a chair beside the bed.
"Doctor Lee seems to be out," she continued, "and—and..."
Her voice died away, and she lay back on her pillows, while the harsh-voiced woman bent over her with a look of such infinite love on her weather-beaten face that I inwardly marvelled at the transformation.
"You see"—the invalid opened her eyes again as my fingers closed round the weak, fluttering pulse—"it's very important, Doctor Morton, that I should see my husband.... He has been up in London, and came down by the mail from Euston last night.... So he should be here in a few hours, shouldn't he?"
"He should," I answered, taking out a notebook and pencil. "Don't talk, Mrs. MacDerry ... just rest."
I scribbled a few lines and handed the paper to the maid. I knew only the simplest drugs would be available, and it was going to be a stiff fight to keep the feeble flame alight even for a few hours.
"Either go yourself, or send the boy at once to the nearest chemist for those drugs," I whispered. "There's no time to be lost...."
She left the room without a word, and once more the weak voice came from the bed.