“Something that came when I was away, I suppose. Hang it, I think Billson might have looked after things better!”
“It sounds queer,” said Welsh, reflectively; “I wonder what it was?”
“Confound Billson, he might have told me,” observed the doctor. “But, I say, you know we have something more practical to see to.”
“Getting the man out again?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let’s have a little grub first.”
Twiddel rang the bell, and the frowsy little maid entered, carrying a letter on a tray.
“Dinner,” said he.
“Please, sir,” began the maid, holding out the tray, “this come for you near a month agow, but Missis she bin and forgot to send it hafter you.”
“Confound her!” said Twiddel, taking the letter.